Mayhem
by threesquares
Summary: An answer to the question: when might Booth and Brennan have pretended to be other people for reasons other than an undercover assignment. Tag for Mayhem on a Cross. Please note the rating.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.

A/N: I spent the two days half in the world, half in my head, writing the beginning of this story. A kind of odd alternate answer to the question of when Booth and Brennan might have pretended to be someone else. You might think it could have befitted from a good editor, and no doubt it could have but it has been edited down considerably, which means I have left in the amount of detail that I like. I like thinking about Booth breathing. Every time he does it. If you don't, please don't feel you have to keep reading.

Thanks to broilthesuspect for an early read and moral support. It helped more than you know. Without you, I might not have posted although I would certainly have written.

Please note that this is M rated for language and well, what some might call "the good stuff".

M  
February 23, 2013

* * *

"Yes, one of them is acutely aware of that attraction, struggles daily with it, in fact." G.G. Wyatt during a discussion with L. Sweets, "Mayhem on a Cross", _Bones_, air date: April 6, 2009

**************B&B****************

Gordon Gordon and Sweets had left. The dishes were done. Booth was beat, he recognized an emotional hangover when he had one. Between revelations of Sweet's childhood abuse, his scars, and Brennan's surprising _hell fucking shocking _confession, he felt hungover. Cotton-mouthed, sour stomach, headache blooming at the base of his skull and all. All night, he had caught himself clenching his fists, had to direct his hands to loosen to pass the bread. At one point, Sweets had knocked into Brennan as she came out of the kitchen, sending her reeling gently into the wall. _Thankfuckingchrist_ Booth was all the way on the other side of the room, just turning from changing the music. Had he been closer he might have done what he wanted and closed his hand around Sweet's throat. And squeezed. Squeezed so hard, so fast, that the boy would make no sound. Squeezed and...pushed so that Sweets was on his toes and Booth would feel the compression of cartilage and bone and tendon and the diminishing volume of a thin passage meant for air. He could almost feel the gentle burn of muscles well used, the swell of pleasure as righteous anger found its release. That pleasure pulsing through his belly and, truth be told, his cock. The idea of protecting her, when he couldn't then, when he couldn't even stop her pain tonight, made him fucking _hard_.

He couldn't let himself go there right now, couldn't think about what they said _oh my god what had he said_ in Sweet's office, not yet. But not thinking about it didn't change how hard it was getting to breathe. What happened, what they had revealed, was an implosion, shattering glass that ripped into his naked body. The tiny shards of glass were only now making themselves felt. They each had a name, they each made him bleed: the thick warp and weft of hurt in her voice, the way that she seemed to be _apologizing_, the suddenness of her confession coming as it did just as he was about to invite Sweets to dinner and...and...the way she _looked_ at him. At _him_. She barely looked at Sweets at all, really. Her pale eyes, pleading and almost transparent, turned to Booth. _What, Bones? Oh no. No. No no no no..._

He realized suddenly that he was gripping the counter, head bent, rocking slightly against the waves of anger and pain that he had kept down all night. He heard her, heard Bones, coming back from the bathroom, having washed up, gotten ready to leave for the night. Booth knew, _knew_, he wouldn't sleep for hours, and wondered idly if he could convince her somehow to let him take her home before he hit the 24 hour gym down the block. He took a deep breath and turned, took control of his body. Hands unclenched, posture deliberately loose and relaxed leaning against the sink, Booth waited for Brennan to come through to the kitchen.

"Booth?"

"In here, Bones."

She stuck her head around the doorway. "Well, I'll be going, I suppose."

"Yeah, Bones, you must be tired." He pushed off the counter and walked toward her slowly, hands pushed down in his pockets, deep. She drifted toward him a few steps too until they stood maybe a foot apart, in the center of his kitchen. "Um...quite a night." He ventured, wanting to give her an opening, if she wanted it, to talk, and to make sure she was all right.

She looked him squarely in the face, silent in her Brennany way, the way very few people were, and again he was reminded of her stricken gaze and glassy eyes from earlier. Her eyes were no longer teary but they were just as naked, and while no longer in the throes of a painful confession, the lateness of the hour, the emotional residue, the three glasses of wine, all contributed to her continued openness. His fingers convulsed gently against his leg; it was all he could do not to stroke her face.

She spoke haltingly, the words shared deliberately, almost reluctantly. "It is not always comfortable...being me...being you...is it, Booth?" Her eyes were intent on his, almost...almost pleading? It occurred to him that she had been pretending tonight, too, and that she must be feeling the effects of it in her own way.

He agreed with her but he also wondered if she was thinking, as he was, of those times when they played at being other people, for work, either going undercover, or playing a role in the interrogation room. Was she thinking of it too? "No, Bones. It isn't always easy." He wouldn't deny her. If she had asked him in the morning, he might have reminded her of the good things, so so many good things about their lives and work, about _her_, but right now, right fucking now, this was all he had. His agreement and acceptance.

"Booth, I have two questions for you." He tensed involuntarily. What was she going to make him reveal now? _Was she going to ask him about his own confession?_ He must have looked nervous because she reached out and put her _soft cool_ hand on his arm. "Nothing big, Booth, I promise."

"What, Bones?" He was looking at her but his entire awareness of the universe had contracted to the four fingers and the thumb lightly pressing into his arm.

"Would you drive me home? And...may I have a guy hug?" This last was said with a wry, reluctant, pleading little-girl-lost look that came with her slightly tilted head and crooked almost smile. And before he could really register its affect on him, Booth had pulled her into him, hands stroking in warm comforting waves down her back. She didn't even hug him back at first, just allowed her body to sink against his, surrendering completely, arms at her sides, face pressed into his chest and neck. He felt giddy with relief and pleasure at getting what he needed _oh how he needed to just touch her_ and he held her desperately, hoping she couldn't feel how desperate he was for this.

They stood like that for long minutes, Booth cradling her, his partner, her fine bones and cool face against his big body, always too warm, until finally, he felt her arms creep up to wrap around his torso, banding tight and then, only then, and only once, he felt her shudder. And then she released him.

She pushed back, away from him with a smile still too small but at least genuine. He let her go even though it was the last thing he wanted.

"Ready?" He said carefully, almost steadily, allowing his hand one last long swipe from her shoulder down to her hand, pressing it in an almost friendly fashion.

"Yes, Booth. I'm ready." She turned and gathered her things.

The ride in the car prolonged this intimacy. It was late, dark, and familiar. Booth almost wasn't surprised to hear her say, "I have a third question, Booth, a request, really...if you are willing to hear it."

He glanced at her quickly but couldn't tell anything from her dark silhouette, despite the strobe like effect of passing neon lights on her pale skin. He turned his eyes back to the road. Near her apartment, the streets would be almost empty, but now, on a Friday night, he found himself driving through a much more heavily trafficked area of town, crowds of people going in and out of bars, clubs, a trendy late night coffee house movie theater. This part of town extended for a number of blocks in both directions, not all of it so brightly lit, not all of it so mainstream. This late at night, Booth stuck to the main thoroughfare.

Bracing himself, but not really even considering denying her request, he said "What is your question, Bones?" He shot her a little smile, hoping she could hear it in his voice at least. "I liked your last two."

In his peripheral vision, he saw her turn toward him. "Can we go out tonight? I know I won't sleep now for hours, and I suspect that you won't either. We could...come back here." Brennan gestured vaguely at the night life around them. "I actually have a place in mind."

Booth wanted to say yes so badly he had to swallow, hard, and clench his jaw to hold it in. "Bones, I don't know if that is a good idea." His quiet voice seemed as uncertain as he felt.

"Why?" _Oh, Bones, you just ask if you want to know don't you? What if you don't like the answer? But you don't care, do you? You just want to know. Well, you can't know this. You can't know that I don't know if I can risk being out in public with you in the state I'm in: hyper-protective, angry, and turned on._

"Umm...it's late and," he gives her a part of the truth, "I don't know Bones. I feel kind of done in from everything tonight. I was thinking of going to work out."

She was quiet a minute, thinking. Bones had a hundred different kinds of thinking silences. The slightly aggressive, slightly rushed, scrupulously neutral tone of her next words warned him that she was saying something that she _almost_ decided _not_ to say. He didn't have time to worry or brace for another confession before the words were in the truck between them.

"I had already started preparing to go undercover last month."

Not sure what to make of this, he said, "Um...what?"

Clearly she thought he had forgotten the case and started to remind him. "No, Bones, I remember the case, but what do you mean you already started preparing?"

A deep breath, a rush of words before she could think better of it. "I don't think it has escaped your notice that I really like going undercover. With you." She talked even faster. "And so when we were going to go undercover as musicians in a punk rock band, I researched what I would need to know to fit into my role. I practiced the guitar. I researched the local punk rock scene here in D.C.-even though we were going to be in New York-I bought some clothes, I interviewed the woman who makes me coffee every morning at Cafe G's-"

He couldn't help but interject. "You interviewed Monica?" The pretty owner of the trendy coffee shop closest to the Jeffersonian had always made her interest in him plain. Bones _interviewed_ her?

"No, Booth, I interviewed one of her employees, a girl who goes by the name Electra. While she does adopt perky and customer friendly mannerisms at work, her clothing, hair, and multiple piercings all seemed to indicate some expertise and experience in the culture. She took me out one night and she definitely projected a more forbidding demeanor in a purely social setting. It was a very interesting evening. The music, the clothing, the hair...the directness that is a part of social interactions in the punk culture. " In the dark car he was robbed of the information he usually gleaned from her body language and facial expressions, but the rush of words had slowed. She had obviously enjoyed the girl's company, the evening out. She sounded...a little dreamy. But Booth still had no idea why she was telling him this.

"_Bones._ Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, before the undercover operation was cancelled, I bought several outfits in case we decided to practice, or just to bring with me, if it came to that." Another loaded pause. "I bought you one too."

She'd lost him. "You bought me one what?"

"An outfit."

"A punk rock outfit?"

"Well, it isn't necessarily a punk rock outfit, but yes, an outfit that would allow you to blend in to the culture that grows up around the punk music scene."

He pulled into a space down the block from her apartment and put the car in park. He still couldn't see her face, but at least he wasn't trying to drive. "What are you trying to say, Bones?"

He could hear her breath in and out in a little huff. "I...want to go out tonight."

He shifted, trying to make out her face in the weak ambient light from the street lamps. She said, "and I want to wear my new outfit."

And then, lower, almost a whisper. "And I want you to wear yours."

He didn't know what to say and was trying to figure it out, distracted by the way that her scent had permeated the car and was making his head swim and his pants get tight. The small silence was a solid thing and she broke it by reaching out and putting her hand on his arm again. "I think it would be fun, and I think that you, we both, could use a few hours away from being Special Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan."

Something she said, something about the way she said it. Was she trying to comfort _him? _To cheer _him_ up after the revelations in Sweet's office_? _Fuck. And he felt his lips form the word, heard his voice rasp it out.

"Okay."

**************B&B****************

Booth couldn't believe it. The boots alone, classic Doc Marten boots, probably cost three hundred bucks. Black jeans, chunky black leather belt with silver studding, half gloves, arm cuffs that put his tattoos in high relief, a simple but clearly high quality white tank style t-shirt. He got the idea and in her guest bathroom, _bigger than his only bathroom_ used some of the stuff in her cabinet to spike his hair.

"Booth? Do you need anything?" She called from the living room, just outside the door of the guest room.

He gave his hair one last swipe on the side, twitching a few hairs into place, and called back as he crossed to open the door to the living room, "Damn, Bones, this must have cost you a lot of mon..." Fuck if he could even finish his thought. Jesus Christ, she looked like...like...

She stood tall-posture all hers, but otherwise...hair a riot of curls, eyes outlined sharply in black, shiny red lips, silver hoops travelling up the shell of both ears. And her body...instead of fishnet stockings and ripped layers of clothes _because he could tell she was going for punk grunge goth something like that_ she was wearing almost...nothing. Her feet were covered, he'd give her that. Thin, flat soled boots that fit like a glove to just below her knee. But then...her legs were shaved and tanned _when did that happen_ and glowed with some kind of silky shine all the way to...a small band of black fabric that stretched just barely below...below...and didn't cover anywhere close to her rhinestone studded belly button. Her shirt didn't deserve the name and was more bra than shirt, but what really drove the shard of attraction and sex through his gut were the tattoos. A curling web of flowers starting below one breast and snaking out of sight toward her back. A dolphin on her chest, almost over her heart. And, he suspected he hadn't seen them all.

A sharp spike of clean, brain-clearing anger shot through him. At her, this time. Was she trying to kill him? He gave in to his sudden impulse to level the playing field.

She looked confused by the fact that he hadn't finished his sentence, but as he stalked forward, her expression turned fleetingly to alarm before she schooled her features to impassivity again. All this in an instant and her eyes stayed, burning and bright on his as he moved in close. So close, so quickly, that she had to steel herself to not take a step back; Booth could see her muscles tense and shift to firm up her stance. He didn't let that stop him, though, and he crowded her until she had to step back..."_Booth_..."...until she was leaning against the living room wall between the two bedrooms and he pressed one hand to the wall by her head and let his eyes roam over her face and body.

"Bones, I think you forgot to buy yourself clothes." Despite his aggression, Booth could hear the weakness, his weakness for her, in his voice.

"What, Booth?" She protested. "No, I-"

But he cut her off. "Bones, that is not a skirt, it's a headband. And your shirt is broken. It will not keep you warm or covered or anything a shirt is _supposed_ to do." Her look-full of confusion and consternation both-was so adorable, so _Bones_, that Booth leaned in and inhaled deeply and ostentatiously behind her ear and by her neck. His head swam with the effort to not press his mouth there, to _bite_ her. What was _happening _to him? Despite his intention to pull back, he couldn't help but whisper, close, so close, to her ear, lips brushing the tiniest of hairs on the side of her face, "_Bones. Are you sure this is a good idea?"_

And she surprised him again. The warmth of her cheek brushing his own, she pulled back slowly until she could meet his eyes. "Yes." Just that. And she didn't pull back any farther, or say anything else. Just allowed him to breathe her air, breathed his, and let blue eyes meet brown. He wasn't sure what his own expression revealed, but the stark if inexplicable truth did what coyness couldn't. Finally he took a deep breath of his own and pulled back just enough more that he could reach for her arm and raise it up over her head so he could see the tattoo.

"Did you get a tattoo for the undercover assignment as well, Bones? That's taking it a bit far, isn't it?" Craning his neck and moving her around so he could see better, he followed the tattoo around her side, under her arm to where it finished on her shoulder blade. She tried to push him away playfully but he didn't budge.

"It's temporary, Booth. Stop manhandling me." She said, clearly making an effort to make her voice sound normal. But still they stood much closer together than usual. And, Booth realized, he was still holding her arm over her head, his thumb rubbing little circles on the inside of her wrist. Bones blinked, but it was so long and slow that he knew that she too, was aware of the caress. He dropped her hand and stepped back and she slowly lowered her arm to rest at her side. There was very little that was _normal_ about tonight.

In the end, it was something so out of character, so _un-Boneslike_ that it convinced him that they were really doing this, for whatever reason, and that _what the hell_ he was all in. As they walked to the door, Booth tried and failed several times to attach his keys to the retractable silver loop on the belt Bones had provided him because he was too busy watching her _ass_ striding smoothly away from him toward the coat hooks. Finally, he focused on what he was doing and the latch caught his key ring; he looked up to find Bones handing him a black leather jacket. _Her_ black leather jacket. He felt the cocky smirk curl his lips. _Really?_ He questioned her with a look and his smile. She tossed her hair saucily and turned her beautifully toned shoulders and back to him, holding her arms out for him to help her on with her jacket. He did so, smoothly, and he grabbed his own larger, thicker, much more masculine jacket off the hook with his left hand to carry. He wasn't sure he'd ever be cold enough to wear a jacket again. He slid his hand where it belonged against her lower back, a small sensible voice in his head relieved that there was a jacket between his hand and her "skirt". Bones glanced back over her shoulder at him as she went through the door, silencing that small sensible voice with the bright glint of mischief in her eyes, the smooth wriggle of her hips under his hand, and the glint of white against her shiny red smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Bones filled him in on their cover story in the car as he drove them back to neighborhoods full of music and people and lights. It was simple enough, like the best cover stories, but unlike most of their cover stories, it was close enough to the truth to make him uncomfortable. It made him feel like this was less like an undercover assignment and more like an alternate reality. He fixed cars, working for a small service station where he was allowed to use tools and a spot out back to work on his own projects in his own time. She had dropped out of college, not sure what she wanted to do other than follow her favorite local punk band around New England. Now, she worked two jobs, one part time at a local indie music store, and one as the receptionist at a branch of the D.C. humane society, and was thinking of going back to college to be a veterinary assistant.

"Do we have names? Different names?" Booth asked. "I mean, I'm not sure Tony and Roxie really fit."

"No. We shouldn't use Tony and Roxie." Bones thought for a minute, clearly she hadn't thought of this. "I don't know. Do you have any ideas, Booth?"

"Since we haven't had a lot of time to practice, maybe we should keep it simple. I can still be Booth, or Joseph I guess. Seeley's too unusual. I can remember to call you Bren, it could be short for Brenda." Booth could almost see her wrinkle her nose, even though once again, the dark car inhibited his attempts to get a look at her face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a parking spot on the crowded street. He expertly parallel parked the Tahoe into it, glad to get a space on a well lit street, even though they'd have to walk a little further. Wondering if the fact that she let him put her jacket on meant that she would wait for him to open the door for her, he hopped down from the car, boots making a satsifying thud on the wet asphalt. It wasn't raining now, but had earlier today, and the cool moist air was a shock against his heated skin. He walked around the front of the car and sure enough, when he got to the passenger's side, he could see Bones' dark shape waiting for him in her seat. He opened the door and held out his hand. She took it firmly and jumped down, landing lightly but bouncing enough that he used it as an excuse to to steady her, two hands firmly holding her at the waist.

"Thanks." She said, head tilted back, voice husky.

"Sure." His own voice also sounded a little hoarse. Bones was usually taller; she didn't have to look so far up. It must be the difference between the flat soled boots and the low heeled shoes or boots she usually wore. He realized the moment had gone on a beat too long. He slung his arm around Bones and pushed her down the street. "C'mon, Bren. Let's find that bar you've been telling me about."

**************B&B****************

The strangest thing yet was how fucking _easy_ it was. Getting them there, down increasingly dark side streets was child's play, his big body and predatory walk an effective deterrent to trouble. Booth suspected that he was in a whole different kind of trouble tonight, and welcomed the possibility of a straightforward fight. That said, he was glad to find, once in the dark and crowded bar that the place had enough people on staff to manage the crowd and the bouncers seemed competent. The bouncers had checked their ID's carefully and had known what to look for. The shorter of the two guys, obviously in charge, gave him a hard look, warning him off making trouble. Booth pulled Bren into his side and nodded to the man in return, acknowledging the warning and letting him know his priority tonight was the girl at his side. The bouncer relaxed and shifted slightly to let them pass.

Being a guy, being a cop, both were comfortable roles for Booth. Pretending to be someone else had always been something he did in the service of being a cop. He hadn't been sure how he was going to do without that as a part of the play. But what he hadn't counted on was how Bones had, through accident or design, hit upon a role that only required that he be himself, be Booth. Sure, he wasn't some punk car jockey who asked out a girl whose brakes he had replaced, but he did know about cars, and he knew about music too. He knew how to flirt and blend in as well as how to flirt and stand out. So. Easy.

He got them beers and they eased into a slightly less crowded corner of the bar farthest from the makeshift stage. Bren leaned close and asked him about his work. He told her about cars, a little about how they worked, a couple of stories about cars he'd worked on without floors, cars that had been modified in cool ways. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and enjoyed her sweet beery breath as she told him about the animals at the shelter, about walking them and about trying to find them homes. All around them the crowd shifted and moved like the sea at mid-tide, not quite sure whether it was coming or going. He carefully kept her safe with his body, his presence, leaning into and around her as they talked and laughed. His own, as yet unworn, jacket lay untouched on a chair nearby, and his composure took a hit when she stripped her own jacket off and lay it across his. The temperature in the room had grown with the crowd and her face was rosy with it, her throat slightly shiny with sweat. The multiple strands of chain she had hung around her neck included charms dangling low, and before he could steel himself against the impulse, his eyes had once again dropped to her cleavage, her tattoos, and down to her naked belly.

He glanced up and found her watching him, a small smile on her face. Holding her gaze, he reached out and unerringly touched her belly button, rhinestone stud and all. She jumped and laughed.

"Ticklish?" He had to raise his voice to be heard now. He hadn't moved his finger but now traced a slow circle around the stud which he assumed was glued on. Her body straightened a little but swayed forward, maintaining the contact, and he obliged this unspoken request, turning his hand over and letting his knuckles brush her belly, not straying far from her belly button. Back. Forth. A little up. A little down. Another slow blink from Bones as she swayed a little closer, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

Alarm bells rang in his head, but the moment was lost as someone fell against him from behind. He tensed and turned. No one looked guilty or apologized. Several women walking past eyed him with interest, one beautiful but purple haired woman stroked her hand down his chest as she passed, winking saucily. Her face went from sexy to pained as Brenn twisted her wrist back.

_"What the fuck?_" she shouted angrily. Bren moved forward, and, the painful pressure on the other woman's wrist obviously increased because Purple Hair backed up a step, wrenched her arm away and stalked off into the crowd. Booth turned just his head to look over at Bones, now standing comfortably next to him, a little lower than usual, but still shoulder to shoulder. He said cheerfully-_mouthed_ really, given the noise level-"That was so _hot_." She winked at him and leaned up on tiptoes to speak into his ear, her breath hot, her tiny hand resting against his shoulder, her soft breasts pressing into his arm and elbow. "Get me another beer, Booth?"

Booth left her to grab a couple more beers. As he threaded his way through the crowd, he found himself assessing the crowd, looking for any trouble spots, checking faces against the current watch list, looking for any signs of concealed weapons. Something was going down by the men's bathroom and he diverted briefly back to the bar to put a word in the bartender's ear and received an extra beer as thanks. _Finally_ he was getting close to where he left Bones. He saw the two hulking men first, and then as the crowd shifted, he realized they were flanking Bren. The crowd was pretty diverse and included groups of college kids as well as a slightly older constituency from the local alternative music and punk crowd. There was an even older crowd, clearly regulars, and even a few men in suits. Given that a popular local band was due to sing tonight, he figured maybe they were scouts or agents.

That said, the two guys with Bones looked like Hollywood's version of a biker gang, shaved heads, head to toe leather and all. As he watched, one of the men held out his hands. Bones took them and examined them. Almost on them now, Booth could see that the man's hands were almost black, heavily tattooed with what to him looked like meaningless symbols. Bones looked up and smiled the guy, shouting a question across the _all too short _distance between them. Booth shifted the beers to one hand so that his right hand was free to punch the asshole if he wanted. Fist already clenching, Booth was aware of the moment when Bones saw him approaching. Her eyes lit up and her smile _she was smiling at the fucker_ got personal. Her mouth quirked up at one corner and her eyes were warm and intimate on his, like they shared a joke.

And suddenly, he felt as though _he_ had been punched.

He allowed the crowd to push him even closer to her than was strictly necessary and reached out to thread his hand through her hair at the base of her neck, calming himself by touching her. Not enough. He let his fingers dip down between the thin straps of her shirt, stroking the soft skin between her shoulders. She turned back to the men, but leaned into his hand the tiniest bit, and Booth relaxed a little more. The man whose hands she was _still_ holding was now pulling gently, trying to get his hands back, eying Booth nervously. Booth nodded at him and leaned over to say into Bones' ear. "I think the guy wants his hands back, Bren.". Her eyes jumped to his and then back to the man. She laughed and let him go, shouting at him. "Those are excellent renderings, Burr." She looked up at Booth again, "Booth, this is Burr and his friend..."

"Dave." The other man helpfully supplied, also acknowledging Booth with a nod and a "Hey."

Booth didn't respond for a long second, letting them take in every bit of his powerful frame, letting his eyes go a little dangerous before smiling a little and handing over a couple of beers. He handed the last one to Bren.

"Where's yours, Booth?" His head was still swimming with a new awareness of her. Cut off from the familiar context of work and friends, coworkers and routine, their connection to one another was thrown into high relief. He _had_ to acknowledge that without her silent plea, he _never_ would have revealed himself in Sweet's office the way he had. And she, she had _turned to him_. Their connection was strong and getting stronger; he should have realized before now. He had been attracted to her from the first, but when was the last time that his last thoughts before sleeping weren't of her? When did he last eat out that he didn't think of whether Bones would like it or not? When was he last hurt or sad that he didn't turn to her for comfort? Her own kind of brutally honest comfort, so maybe he was just fucking nuts, but it worked for him.

Like the partners they were, he could signal her with just his eyes, and understand her signals. He couldn't just keep thinking it was the partnership, though. It was beyond that. He looked at her and he _knew _her, knew how she _felt_ when even she didn't acknowledge her own feelings. And he knew she saw _him_. He touched her and her body curved into his. It had been this way for a long time now. The courteous touch of his fingers had long since become the press of his whole palm against the warm hollow of her back.

And now, despite all these people, it was like it was just them in this bar. Even the sound of the band taking the stage to wild applause had receded to dim background noise. Burt and Ernie had moved away a little, closer to the stage, but Bones was still focused on him, still leaning into his hand at her back. Her face was still turned to his, the light of inquiry that had been trained on the other man's hands now bent toward him. The little crinkle formed between her brows as she waited for him to answer her. _What was the damn question? _She raised the beer to her mouth, never taking her eyes from him, but his drifted to her mouth as she drank. The urge to lean down and take her lips from the bottle with his own, to drink the beer from her mouth, was almost overwhelming.

But the moment was lost and as she swallowed, he felt his cock get even harder than the half hard-on he'd been sporting most of the night. He watched her throat and then her lips moved and realized she had asked another question. She was holding the beer out toward him. He reached out, probably blind fucking stupid for inching up even closer to that line, and curved his hand around hers, brought the beer to his mouth, helped her help him take a long draught. When he was finished, her eyes were on his mouth, their hands still holding the bottle together. Just because he often knew what she was feeling, didn't mean he ever knew what she was thinking and now was no exception. The pleasure and heat of being with her dulled the panic creeping in at the edges of his consciousness. _What was he going to do? How could he be sure she felt the same? If she didn't, if she was behind him, could he convince her? Was it too much to risk?_ The panic was closing in on him when Bones, through instinct or luck, broke its hold. She extracted the beer bottle and bent to place it against the wall. Almost all of the chairs and tables had been removed tonight to make room for people to watch the band. As she rose, she took his hand, threading their fingers together and pulled him forward to the dance floor.

**************B&B****************

Later, details of the evening would come back to Booth.

The punk band so lauded in the local press, just making it onto a national stage, turned out to be best known for their 80's covers, almost unrecognizable to someone who didn't know the songs in their original as Booth did. The band was called Galatsaray Sports Klub-a well know Turkish soccer team that he once saw when posted there for joint military exercises with the Turkish army. The band, headed up by a girl with a pink mohawk, all wore team jerseys in the trademark red and gold altered almost beyond all recognition, much like the songs. And yet, at the time, all of this was just a serendipitous background, like a perfect summer weather on a day you plan a picnic.

So for now,he just enjoyed his perfect summer day. In the darkest hours of earliest morning. In a crowded room. With really really loud music. And Bones, jumping around, bumping into him so often that he pulled her closer just to keep them all safer. It seemed to him later that the narrative of the night, the story of Booth and Bren, ended with the arrival of the band. Everything after that was just direct communication between the two of them, and his experiences and hers were a kaleidoscope of sight, sound, smell, touch, and ultimately, taste.

_Won't you come see about me?_  
_I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby_

They started out on the edges of the makeshift dance floor, Bones gripping both his hands and jumping for all she was worth. Waving her arms over her head and shouting with the rest of the crowd.

_you really know how to dance _  
_when you go _  
_up _  
_down jump around _  
_talk about true romance_  
_keep on whispering in my ear tell me all the things that i wanna hear _

Letting the press of bodies push them close together, Booth stopped thinking. For all that he teased her about always thinking, he was just as bad. Always weighing the odds, the risks. Not...right now. Just not now. Her arms up over her head, hips swinging wildly, he caught tantalizing glimpses of her white belly, her thighs. She spun and he watched the inky vines twirl away. The thought intruded that all the criminals in the world could be here right now and he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of her long enough to see them.

_It's poetry in motion_  
_She turned her tender eyes to me_  
_As deep as any ocean_  
_As sweet as any harmony_

He didn't think that she knew the song but when she heard the word "science", she looked up at him and laughed. He could feel it even though he couldn't hear it, and she was dancing faster, and it was then that he couldn't help but reel her into him, both of them sweaty and hot and her elbows knocking into him.. Oh she spun away from him sometimes, dancing around and around, revolving around him. For him she was the center of this place, this night, but she made him feel like he was, like she'd always come back to him. Feeling her hands stroking around his body shoulders and across his arms and gripping around his waist for balance had his body on fire with need and the desire to give her whatever she wanted.

_If you should find you miss the sweet and tender love we used to share._  
_Just go back to the places where we used to go, and I'll be there_  
_Well, how can I forget you, girl?_  
_When there is always something there to remind me._

When there was a break, she pantomimed water and sent him for some while she went to the bathroom. When she came out, he handed her both bottles and took the opportunity to relieve himself as well. When he got back, the air was noticeably cooler and he could see that the bouncers had spread out so that a back and side door were now standing open, letting in fresher air. Before he could think better of it, Booth reached for Bones' hand as soon as he was close enough. She took his easily, without any hesitation and he thought his heart would stop when she pulled his hand around her back to settle on her far hip as she looped her own arm around his back, leaning into his side. Hesitant to break the spell but wanting to get them away from the crowd for a minute, Booth guided her toward the side door, roped off but open with a bouncer standing duty. After a quick glance around, Booth pulled his badge from his pocket. The bouncer's eyes showed no surprise and he stepped back to let them pass. "We'll be right back." The guy nodded once and then turned his back to them.

_U don't have 2 be rich_  
_2 be my girl_  
_U don't have 2 be cool_  
_2 rule my world_  
_Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with_  
_I just want your extra time and your_

Half deaf from music, half drunk from drinking, and still half-hard from dancing and proximity to her, he stepped out onto the sidewalk. "There can't be more than two halves, Booth." Bones said in his head. He must have laughed out loud, because Bones gave him a funny look. But she was still holding onto him, still letting his arm rest around her, higher now, his fingers rhythmically stroking her shoulder.

He felt lighter, almost penitent in his relief so great was the burden of this day, ultimately, that she had lifted from him. The rage her confession of pain had engendered had been transmuted by play and movement and her touch into something he couldn't describe but maybe he could live with. Her head lolled on his shoulder lightly and he wondered if she were drunker than he had thought. And it was then that Bones both twisted and removed the knife that had slid, deep into his gut, in Sweet's office earlier.

Her voice, husky but sober, sliced through the night.

"There is more, Booth. More than me being locked in a trunk. And I know there is more than just what you said tonight too." He was frozen, every muscle in his body suddenly tense, but before all the worry and pain and anger could come flooding back, she flipped from her position at his side, onto his body, arms slipping around him to hold, hard. His hands again pulled her into him, but this time smoothed over the naked skin of her back. Her face pressed into his neck; he could feel her nose, her forehead, and her mouth, slightly open, like a kiss.

_Ooh, baby, try_  
_Hey girl, move a little closer._  
_You're_  
_Too shy shy_

It is 3 am and the last set of the night was slower, the tempo of the songs distorted to fit the mood, rather than the other way around. He was done pretending. Just held Bones close. Watched their hips slip and slide together. Felt her small hand sneak beneath his t-shirt to touch his back. Her hair was sweaty and loose and hid her face as she moved and swayed, much more coordinated together than separate. He reached out and slid his palm against her cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone, tipping her head up, forcing her to look at him. She met his eyes and smiled a little crooked smile and instead of pushing back against his hold, she used his own grip against him, letting the weight of his hand bring her forward against his chest.

_I said to my reflection_  
_Let's get out of this place_  
_Past the church and the steeple_  
_The laundry on the hill_  
_The billboards and the buildings_  
_Memories of it still_  
_Keep calling_

The last time he remembers dancing with her was in that hick bar in Washington State on one of their first cases. No, wait, they were dancing when he got blown up that time. He wonders briefly if he should have requested Hot-Blooded. They probably also danced at Hodgins and Angela's reception. Who's he fucking kidding. He remembered every second of the two dances he got with her that night. One fast but one slow. He remembers that oh so appropriate dance now, as he and Bones try to get even closer. His hand hasn't left the small of her back in a long time and his fingers have penetrated the top of the band of fabric that is her skirt. Her hands couldn't seem to decide where they wanted to be, sometimes holding on to his sides, sometimes curling around him, even stroking as high as his shoulder blades, and once, sweeping up his chest to his shoulders, her palms scraping past his nipples and sending shock waves through his body even as she clasped her hands around his neck.

_He'll tell you he's the king_  
_Of these barrio streets_  
_Moving up to shangri-la_  
_Came by his wealth as a matter of luck_

The band closed their set, and the bar, with Dr. Feelgood and it even sounds a little like the Crue. When the lights went on and the band started to pack up, Bones went to the bathroom and to gather their coats, miraculously still where they left them. A few pockets of rowdier or drunker or just plain meaner customers seemed unwilling to leave and Booth lent the staff a hand, helping them empty the place safely, even spending a few minutes outside making sure people were able to catch cabs. He was heading back inside when the bouncer stopped him at the door. "Thanks for the help, man. Your lady says she'll meet you out front." And slammed the door on his face. Booth laughed and jogged around the corner to find Bones zipped into her jacket standing alone but near a few stragglers and the still open front door of the bar.

"Ready?" He asked her.

"Ready." She answered and reached for his hand.

**************B&B****************

Playlist:

Don't You Forget About Me - Simple Minds  
Always something there to remind me - Naked Eyes  
Maneater - Hall and Oatesj  
Blinded Me with Science - Thomas Dolby  
Kiss - Prince  
Too Shy - Kajagoogoo  
Tempted - Squeeze  
Dr. Feelgood - Motley Crue


	3. Chapter 3

He opened the door to the truck for her and she climbed in. He turned away quickly so that he only caught a bare glimpse of her legs and thighs. When he settled in the driver's seat, she scooted over closer to him, shivering a little in the cool early morning air. It was still dark, but had the indefinable quality of night not far from turning into day.

"Here, Bones, let me turn the heat on."

It was only a few minutes later that truck warmed up enough to start blowing out warm air, but she didn't move from where she was pressed up against his side. He stole a glance at her face but couldn't see much.

"You okay?" He felt her head turn toward him.

"Yes, Booth. I'm...good." Her voice was raspy from having to shout in the club, from lack of sleep, probably from the stress of the day too. He wasn't sure what the hesitation meant, but she was still looking at him and her voice was calm and resonant in the stillness of the car. "I'm..." that hesitation again, "...very good."

Her head dropped against his shoulder lightly and he wondered if she was tired. Maybe by the time he got her to her apartment, she'd be asleep.

But she wasn't and she asked him to park out back. That way, they could go in the rear door with her key, bypassing the doorman and any questions or comments on their attire or late arrival home. When he came around to help her out of the truck, she allowed it again, keeping his hand in hers even after reaching the ground. When they reached the door to the building, she let go of him long enough to slide a key from her boot. As she straightened, she smiled up at him. "There is a clever little pocket sewn into the top of the boots for money or a key. That feature of these boots recommended them heavily."

She seemed to want his approval, so he nodded and said, "Cool." He was concentrating so hard on not thinking about what would or would not happen next _he didn't even know what he wanted to happen or not happen next_ that he was just relieved she was talking normally. She unlocked the door and then _oh fuck what does this mean_ took his hand again and pulled him into the back lobby. They rode up to her floor side by side, hand in hand, his heart in his throat, sure this was all going to end, sure that it _had_ to end. When they got to her door, she dropped his hand again to unlock the door and then said, as she entered, pushing the door wide, "Just give me a minute, Booth." And walked on into the apartment, flicking on just the one light in the foyer and then heading through the comfortable darkness to the bathroom.

He stood just inside the door, having closed and locked it behind him. _Would he have to unlock it in a few minutes to leave?_ He hung "his" leather jacket on the hook by the door and then turned toward the living room. The ancient but still familiar end of date discomfort and uncertainty ghosted through his tired brain. Booth shook it off, rubbing his neck and eyes as he walked further into her apartment. He stood in the middle of the room and he could see the city through the big glass window, lights starting to come on in the buildings around them. He heard water shut off and then she was back, joining him soundlessly. The white of her bare feet and legs flashed across his vision..

"Booth." She stood in front of him, back to the city. He could smell her soap and face cream, see in the dim light that her eyes were free of the dark makeup. Bones was not a short woman but with him still in his boots, and hers off, she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. She hadn't touched him yet though, although she stood close. Really close.

"Yeah, Bones?" He answered her; he would _always_ answer her. He didn't know what to say though, what she wanted, what it _meant._

"Your line is craps, you know that right?"

She surprised the laugh right out of him. "Bones! It's _crap_, not craps." He couldn't stop from smiling though. She smiled too and he knew then, "You said that on purpose."

Her smile turned triumphant. "I have my moments."

His fingers, without permission, reached out to stroke her cheek. "You have a lot of moments."

Still smiling, she said, "In the past year, you have been kidnapped, I have been kidnapped, you have been shot..." her voice broke a little and she cleared her throat, continued on, "and died. For three weeks, you died. And Zach...well, and Zach did...what Zach did." She searched his face as if looking for anything she had left out.

After a long beat, she continued. "And now this. Why the hell does everyone else get to cross all kinds of inviolate lines and we don't? How is that fair, Booth?"

"Bones..."

"Are you going to argue with me? Seriously? Because I have to tell you, Booth," she reached out and took his hands in hers. His convulsed around hers, tight on her fingers. She placed his hands on her hips, still only barely covered by the stretch of black fabric. "I wasn't really expecting an argument." She leaned up and pressed her open mouth to his.

And it was all over then. There was no more doubt in Booth's mind, not that there ever had been, really. He forced himself to pause, just one last time, and pulled her head back forcefully, breathing hard into her face, feeling her breathe and seeing her lips wet and already slightly swollen. "You're sure, Bones? Because make no mistake. I _want_ this. I _want you_." He did recognize the brief flare of alarm in her eyes and let a hint of bravado and the flick of his eyes to her chest raise her spirit and soothe her still substantial worries about permanence. "I didn't ask you to marry me, Bones." He said roughly. At that, her hands slipped around and under his shirt for the _last fucking time tonight if he had anything to say about it because he was getting rid of it as soon as __fucking possible._

"Then, yes, Booth. I am sure." And she pulled his head back down to her, demanding. Her mouth was hot, and open. He loved the taste of her, had never wanted to kiss anyone forever before. Her tongue danced with his and she sucked a little, moaning when he increased the pressure of his lips on hers. That sound, that sound that he had _dreamed_ of but had never actually heard before, drew a deep moan from his own throat. _Was it possible to die from wanting something so much?_

She was pulling on his shirt, trying to get it over his head. He stopped kissing her long enough to let her. He tried to kiss her again but she held his hands firm. "_No_, _Booth, I want to...to..."_

Oh, he could see what she wanted to do. Her eyes were wide open and she was leaning back in his arms, letting him bear her weight while she looked at his naked chest. Her hands travelled lightly over all of him, stroking his sides and front, even pinching his nipples, but before he could do more than gasp her mouth was on his throat, travelling wetly, hungrily over his adam's apple and nuzzling into the soft skin beneath his jaw. He grunted as he picked her up and her legs wrapped around him so that they were pressed together tightly. The pressure on his cock was indescribable and he fought for control

"Mine, Bones. _My turn._" He started walking for her bedroom.

"Booth," she gasped, "the guest bedroom..."

"What? Why-" His question was cut off by her mouth again and he staggered, slamming her into the wall, rolling his hips into her. He leaned in so that he could kiss her like he needed to. He kissed her until her moans had turned into squeaks. High pitched, hungry, needy sounds that made his blood sing with satisfaction. He picked her back up and somehow they made it to the guest bedroom. And he could see why she brought him here.

The sun was coming up.

The light pouring through the windows was golden and lit the room with liquid amber. But best of all, he could _see _her. "Oh God, Bones, just hold still a minute would ya?" Her eyes were wide and dark with desire. For him. His breath caught in his throat. "Let me tell you a few things, okay?" He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, letting his thumb stroke the edge of her jaw. "All night I wanted to tell you...to tell you..." He didn't know where to start, so he just started talking while he touched her, while he said some small part of all the things he wanted to say and do with her tonight when he didn't think he could, when he wasn't allowed.

He couldn't stop looking at his big hand, dark and veiny against the perfection of her slender neck and pale skin. He leaned down and opened his mouth on her throat, tracing her pulse with his tongue. His hands traced circles onto her back. Her head dropped back helplessly. He lifted his head slightly to say, "when you came out in this skirt, I thought I was going to black out. I wanted to reach my hand between your legs and find out if your skin was as soft as I thought." He did that now and she arched against him. "So soft..." he whispered.

"And your breasts...oh jesus Bones...I could almost _taste _them." He realized he now he _could_ but wasn't sure how to take her shirt off. Unable to wait, he dipped his fingers into her shirt and lifted the heavy globe of one breast up to his mouth, covering as much as he could, licking and sucking until she was mewling again. He let it drop back into her shirt and took her mouth again. While he did that, he slipped his hands down and under the waistband of her skirt until his hands were full of her ass. Now it was his turn to gasp. He pressed his forehead _hard_ into her shoulder and stroked and kneaded her ass until he thought he would explode. Bones had threaded her hands into his hair and was moving against him rhythmically.

"What you have done to me tonight, what you let me...you let me _touch _you. I touched your belly," he reached down in imitation of earlier, stroked his fingers back and forth and up and down, "and here..." He tapped his forefinger once on her belly button and she moaned softly, jerking back and then into him again. He dropped to his knees and sucked where his finger had been, licked into her belly button.

"Oh, _Booth_." She breathed, almost crying out now. He rose and reached behind her to find the catch for her shirt. And then her breasts were free and she shimmied out of her skirt and she was completely, gloriously naked, and backed up, ready to climb onto the bed with him. Her chin came up and she smiled. "Mine, Booth. My turn." And watched as he unbuckled the heavy leather belt. Straps hanging provocatively, he bent quickly to untie and remove the boots and socks. Standing, now barefooted, he unbuttoned, unzipped and pushed his pants and boxers down. She reached out and took his hand in one of hers and his cock in the other. He closed his eyes for a long minute as she learned the size and shape of him, but when she pressed harder at the base of him, fondling his balls, he broke, leaning into her and crowding her down onto the bed.

He rested on his side, marveling at her body laid out on the bed before him. Stroking down her body with his hand, everything revealed in the lambent morning sunlight, he swallowed the lump in his throat even as he twisted up to grind his hips, his cock, against her softness.

"Bones, baby." He heard the wonder, and the forbidden endearment, spoken in his voice and looked up to see if she was going to kick his ass. But what he saw in her face was wonder to match his own, and straightforward desire.

"Now, Booth. Please."

"Bones, I don't have...anything." She was pulling at him, kissing along his jaw, pulling his ear lobe into her mouth, almost frantic. He was trying to slow down, now, trying to think how...

"It's okay, Booth. Really. It's okay." So he slipped his hand behind her, spread in its own favorite spot and pulled her up onto him, into her, and then _oh god_ then they were together. All the way together. Their bodies had been getting closer and closer all night long and now, he was seated deep in her heat. She was so _fucking hot and wet and damn, he could smell her_. He braced his arms on either side of her and pressed his nose, his face, into her neck and rolled his hips and she bucked up into him.

He had walked the razor's edge of desire all night and wasn't going to last long but she was right with him, bossy and demanding as ever, but also generous and open. He had never felt this _good_. Bones reached up and tugged on his neck, forcing him down, forcing him to drop his arms down. Now they were chest to chest, bodies snug against one another, and their movements got smaller and the rocking got wilder until he heard her cry out, cried his name, and she came, silently clenching and arching against him. He felt her hand on his ass, holding him in place, as if afraid he would leave her.

And then, as she came down from her high, she opened her eyes, dark and drunk and she said, "You." Two three more long drives into the liquid heat of her and he broke too, moaning brokenly and pumping his release as she clutched him to her, pressed her mouth to his chest, near his heart.

He shifted to his side, keeping them joined, and let the light steal into the room, just felt her chest rise and fall against his, memorized the feel of her fingers stroking the back of his head. Her hair was soft under his cheek. Her neck sweeter still under the press of his mouth.

Despite the heavy drag of weariness and release that pulled his body toward sleep, despite the fact that he was still joined with her intimately, he couldn't stop kissing her and her lips opened under his over and over.. They were sweaty and he was afraid she'd be chilly soon. He'd get a blanket or get them under the covers in a minute. When he recovered. _He'd never recover._ Booth pulled back enough to see her face. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was still faster than normal, but, a smug smile curling his lips, she looked well-fucked. Relaxed and happy. Her eyes fluttered open and he felt her stomach muscles clench as she leaned up to kiss him yet again. Her tongue licked lazily into his mouth and he felt heat stir in his belly again.

He shifted slightly so she was under him again but he rested on his elbows, weight still on her but not so heavily as before. Bones sighed and settled under him. He let his hands frame her face and rocked forward lightly to kiss along her jaw to the shell of her ear.

"Thank you."

Her eyes flew open. "For what?" Booth hurried to correct the impression that he was thanking her for sex.

"For tonight, for suggesting we go out, making it happen. I was so angry..." He caught her lips again.

"You still are." She said bluntly.

"What?" _What did she mean?_

"You are still angry, Booth. You have good reason to be and that's part of who you are. You get angry when people you...people you care about are hurt. Like me, locked in a trunk-"

"Bones, I don't want to talk-"

"_Like me, locked in a trunk_. Or like me, trapped underground. Or like me, when someone doesn't respect what I do." She laughed a little at this and informed him. "You are very protective of me."

He didn't know where she was going with this and couldn't tell if she was mad or upset. She was calm, how could she be so calm? His cock was still inside of her. As he thought it, she pulled her legs up so that he was seated even more firmly inside of her. "Is that bad?"

"I used to hate it. Or thought I hated it. But I got used to it, and I have realized lately, that I have come to depend on it. Your temper, your anger, I know it scares you sometimes, but it doesn't scare me. It never has. Not only would you never hurt me, I wouldn't let you." Her own arrogance rising up to meet his. "I can handle it, Booth. I needed you last night. If I hadn't trusted you to protect me, I could never have shared what I did." She reached a hand up between them and lay her hand flat against his cheek. "It hurt, remembering that trunk, how scared I was, how alone."

He made a sound in his throat and shook his head. _No. He didn't want to hear this._ He couldn't _wouldn't_ stop her, but he could distract her. He put his mouth over her breast, sucking and tonguing her nipple, biting down until her body arched into his and she had to pause to catch her breath. He switched breasts and she started talking again. "I was so scared, in that car with Hodgins. It was like I was in that trunk again. I felt like I was 16 again." His mouth moved frantically on her neck, and he knew he was marking her. He sucked at the dolphin on her shoulder, increasingly desperate to stop her words, the tide of rage rising up through his body. She was relentless. "But nothing _nothing_ compared to those three weeks when you were..." her voice cracked but she didn't cry, "dead. When you were dead."

"_No! No, Bones. Please no more. No-" _His voice was harsh at her throat and her precious body was moving against him, under him, and he was fully hard again. Harder than he had been all night and he wouldn't have guessed that was possible. Worse, her words were calling forth his own set of painful images, so close to the surface since she forced his own confession earlier.

"Booth, I will not break. I _need_ you, all of you. You can't protect me from yourself, I won't let you. I _need _you." She repeated. He didn't know _didn't know didn't know_ what she was saying, what she needed but the red haze of anger, the fury of the protector was rising _rising_ and he was trying to control it, push it down. His fists clenched. Her voice came one last time, clear and strong, _Bones' _voice. "And you need me."

He heard the cry before he knew it came from his throat. And he curled up and around her, eyes squeezed shut, pounding into her, harder than he had ever fucked any woman, ever. He didn't think about whether he was hurting her and when she cried out almost immediately, he knew he had. He had hurt her and he tried to slow his hips, to pull back, at the same time he opened his eyes to see her eyes open but blinded by pleasure. Her body, her beautiful body was bowed beneath him, shaking in the throes of an orgasm that his passion had wrung from her.

"Booth. Don't stop. Oh god don't stop. Booth. Booth. Booth. Booth..."

He gave in, letting his body fill her over and over and when he was close to following her over that edge, he pulled back and caught her mouth. She reached up and pulled him even closer to him as his hips rocked into hers. "Booth." She gasped against his mouth. And that was it. It was enough. She was enough. He poured himself into her, body wracked by waves of pleasure so intense that he felt it in his toes, his fingers, his belly and chest and deep, deep in his groin. He lay shuddering against her, felt the wetness of tears and sweat beneath his cheek, and flipped them so that she was sprawled, boneless and replete, on him.

The sun was fully over the horizon now. The sweat on their bodies dried and when he felt her first tiny shiver, he groaned and shifted them so that they could crawl under the covers of the bed together. She repositioned herself against his side, and they spent long minutes in the quiet, breathing together, letting the warmth of her bed creep over them, letting sleep slip in to drag them under.

"Booth?" She mumbled sleepily, kissing his chest under her cheek. He felt pain, a sweet constriction in his heart, his throat.

"Yeah, Bones?" Kissed her forehead.

"I really really like it when you touch me."


	4. Chapter 4

Booth woke in an unfamiliar bed. It's not that it had _never_ happened before, but it hadn't happened in a long time. Booth opened his right eye since his left was still mashed into the pillow; he had rolled onto his stomach sometime in the night. Oh. The _night_. He hadn't actually slept last night. He had gone out dancing with _Bones_. He had laughed and talked with her, "accidentally" touched her and had been "accidentally" touched back. He had taken her hand, felt hers on his arm. He had wrapped his arm around her shoulders and had shivered when she pressed herself close into his side. She had danced with him and their bodies had pressed really really close together. He had kissed her, _Bones_, his partner. Again, it is not as if it had _never_ happened, but it hadn't happened in a really long time. Wait, _had_ he kissed her? Or had she kissed him?

Actually, although he would _probably_ never call her on it, he's pretty sure she kissed him first. "_I really hadn't expected an argument, Booth_." He smilled where his face still pressed into the pillow. He sniffed, but didn't smell her. _Her guest bedroom_._..Bones, naked in new sunlight_. He felt himself harden at the image centered in his mind's eye. _Jesus, she was beautiful. Big round breasts, heavy and pale. Smooth, round hips... _Groaning a little he flipped over, cupping his hand around himself, stroking once before sitting up. He wondered where his partner was, what kind of reaction she was having to all of this. He rubbed his hands over his face, through his hair. He couldn't begin to guess. Last night was outside of anything he might have expected from her, so now...who knew? _I love it when you touch me. _He smiled a little.

The sound of running water intruded. She must be in her own bathroom, showering. He probably woke up because she left the bed. He craned his neck, looking for a clock. 10:36 am. No wonder he was still tired. They probably had only slept 4 hours or so. He sat for a few more minutes, thinking. He decided, finally, that he didn't want to face her naked in her bed. Whatever came next, he should be dressed, he thought, pulling on the boxers he found on the floor. In the little guest bathroom where he had changed into the clothes she had given him, he found his jeans but no shirt. He found a new toothbrush in a box in the cabinet though and a small tube of travel sized toothpaste. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, ran a wet hand through his hair, wincing at how greasy it felt from the gunk he had put in it last night. After a minute's thought, he ducked his head under the faucet in the sink, rubbing shampoo in and rinsing it out awkwardly. He ended up kind of wet himself, but at least his hair wasn't sticky. He towelled off his hair and the worst of the water on his neck and shoulders. After one last search for his shirt-he couldn't find the tank style T that he had on last night either-he padded out into her living room bare-chested and bare-footed.

He hadn't noticed the water shutting off and whirled around when he heard her speak.

"Good morning, Booth."

"Bones! You scared me."

"I can see that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"No, that's okay, I mean...hi."

"Hello."

Her hair was wet and had obviously been towelled dry as it hung in loose waves around her face. Her eyes were...luminous. Bluer in the morning light than they sometimes were, they were nevertheless as direct as always. He thought he could detect fatigue still. This death metal band case, the late night...something had taken a toll. "How do you feel?"

He hadn't moved closer to her and she hadn't budged from her spot in the doorway. "I feel fine. A little tired, but we were out late."

He cleared his throat, "Yes, we were."

She seemed to be fixated on some point below his face because her eyes kept having to travel up to his when they spoke. He glanced down at his bare chest, and while he didn't usually stand around talking to her without a shirt on, it's not like he was totally naked, plus she had seen_, _or rather, _felt_ pretty much everything last night anyway. In any case, he didn't see what she was staring at.

It was at this point that he started staring himself. Suddenly, _he_ noticed that _she_ was wearing only a towel. _How had he not noticed that?_ The swell of her breasts above the white towel looked good enough to lick. Last night had been...great _blown his fucking mind_ but everything had been urgent, desperate. More like feeding a hunger than going on a date. He hadn't had time to slowly explore her body the way he had wanted to for so long.

"Um, Bones? You aren't wearing any clothes..."

"Well..." There was a brief pause while she swallowed and then her chin went up the tiniest bit. "...I wasn't sure I was going to need any."

Heat flared through his body and in three long strides he was on her. He swooped down and caught her mouth with his own. Her face was already turning up to his and her hand stroked firmly up his chest only to drag her nails lightly down his sides. He shivered and pressed even harder at her with his mouth. He pushed at the towel, no finesse at all, so that it dropped, and he groaned at the feel of her breasts more than filling his hands. She pressed into him, damp and cool and her hot mouth alive against his. He let his mouth gentle into smaller sucking kisses, so that, while his hands roamed freely, he could say against her mouth, "Bones?"

"Mmmmm. Umm...Booth? Ohhhh." He squeezed her nipples as he licked into her mouth and then sucked her lower lip gently into his. He felt a surge of pride that he had reduced her to mostly syllables.

"You may not ever need to wear clothes again, Bones." She pressed even harder against him, rotating her hips hard so that unbelievably pleasurable pressure shuddered through his cock, spreading in pulses through his body.

"You either, Booth." She ripped her mouth from his and kissed and licked her way down his body, licking at his nipples wetly. Her hands were splayed across his stomach, like she was trying to touch as much of him as she could reach. "No more shirts for you."

A sudden suspicion gripped him. His head dropped back as she continued to stroke and kiss him, up his chest again. She nudged at his arm with her head and burrowed under, kissing the soft skin of his sides and biting a little as she reached the even more sensitive skin of his underarms. "_Bones._" His voice was low and gutteral, his head still bent back, but he _had_ to know. "Do you know where my shirts are?"

"What, Booth?" She moved from her position against his chest to press her lips against his adam's apple, mouthing and sucking along the sensitive skin of his neck. If he was any judge of Bones, this was a blatant if momentarily successful attempt to distract him. Not to mention his special agent superpowers had alerted him to the evasion implicit in her answer to his question. _Oh, she knew where his shirts were all right_.

He slid his hands up into her hair, holding her face in his while he kissed her until she was panting and moaning. He kissed her eyes and her cheekbones and the sweet hollows of her face. He kissed the edges of her mouth and nibbled at her upper lip and eventually made his way to the soft skin below and behind her ears, finally murmuring. "You heard me, Bones. _Answer me_, _Baby._"

She stiffened and but he was ready, surprising her by reaching down to press into her with one long finger.

"Ohhhhh." She breathed out and melted into him. He easily bore her weight with his left hand while a finger _now two fingers_ slid in and out of her to some internal rhythm of his own. She was so wet he could hardly get any traction but let his thumb slip in and out and along her sensitive folds. "Unnnnnmmmm." She moaned now, high and with an urgency that went straight to his cock. He still had his pants on and his cock wanted _out_. Right fucking now.

"Bones...Bones...unbutton my pants. _Bones_." Her hands fumbled but managed to get the button and fly undone. She was pushing at him and finally he felt his pants and boxers slip down his thighs. He kicked them off and to the side and then despite her protest, eased his fingers out of her to lift her up against his body. He grunted as she wrapped her legs around him, gripped him hard with strong, smooth thighs _she must have shaved all the way up her legs for last night_ grinding against him. Her strong arms and legs had wrapped around him high up on his body and he could feel her wetness against his belly. _Christ, he could not get any harder _and the telltale buzz of heat in his balls warned him that he was playing with fire, but Bones was unaware of his conundrum. She pressed her mouth onto him from above, licking into his mouth and fusing her lips to his even as he stumbled blindly down the hallway to her bedroom. _This wasn't going to be any kind of long and slow lovemaking either._

Booth crawled onto the bed, _damn she was strong_ Bones clinging to him tightly so that once he had her positioned over the pillows, he was going to have to peel her off of him. Instead he balanced on his knees and one hand while he traced a path down her spine with his fingers, letting his fingers stroke between her buttocks until reaching her wetness from behind. As he had hoped, she shuddered so violently that she dropped down onto the bed on her back and he was able to slide his two fingers back into her where they belonged.

He watched her from above, unwilling to give up this opportunity to see what she looked like this vulnerable, this open to him. Her eyes were hazy and drugged looking, entirely focused on the sensations he was wringing from her body. "_Bones_." He whispered huskily, leaning down for another open mouthed kiss. Her lips were no longer desperate on his but soft and tempting as her hips rolled against his fingers, and when he pulled back a little, her lips were wet and red and her eyes were shut. _"Bones." _Her eyes opened languidly_._

_"Booth_." She confirmed, not really knowing what she was saying just answering him, answering him, with her words, her body...

"Hang on, Babe." And he shifted down to lick where his hand was pumping and stroking.

"Oh, Booth. Oh no. Please. Oh no, Booth. _Ohhhhh." _ And he could feel her orgasm wash over her, strong and perfect. He curled his fingers a little and pushed in as far as he could go so she had something to clamp on and she moaned and thrashed a little harder. He moved up her body only part way, so he could suck on her nipples. It was a full minute before she came down from her high enough to become aware of what he was doing.

"Booth, _noooo_. I can't...oh that feels _goooood_." He continued sucking and still, his hand was pressed against her heat, his fingers still deep within her. Once he felt her start to shift against him again, felt the renewed wetness and heat against his hand, he slid his fingers gently out and covered her with his body, spearing up into her with one swift move. _Oh god. _And he meant it. Like a prayer. He had never thought, never really believed that this would happen _could_ happen. She was his. He was going to make sure she never ever forgot this if she even thought about leaving him she was going to remember this and get wet and think well maybe one more time-he needed to give her memories of pleasure and laughter and intimacy to match the darkness she was able to draw out of him and he didn't know where all of this was coming from but he knew, knew what to do.

He knew. She had told him. Put pressure on a bone in one direction, it bent. In another, it broke. In just the right place, it was designed to withstand triple the force that broke it before. He bore down on her, slammed into her, letting a little bit of his fear of losing her now that he had her dictate the force, increase the pressure. He was rough and hard, rougher and harder than he had ever let himself be with anyone. And she knew. Her eyes flew open and whatever else she saw, she _knew_. Her eyes on his fully, she deliberately swept her hands up her body _stroking the fucking tattoos_ to cover her own breasts and arched her beautiful body upward, holding his eyes. Absolutely fearless, daring him to be even rougher. "_You think you can overwhelm me, that I will break?" her look seemed to say. _But right now he didn't want to overwhelm her, didn't even need to her to take everything he had to give like he had last night. He just wanted to call it to mind, to remind her of how broken he really was, so that he could show her that he could call it back. Even as her fingers rolled her own nipples, causing her to buck harder against him from below, he swept down and nudged her hand away with his nose, sucking her nipple into his mouth even as he dropped his weight down and to the side, turning them so she was on top, _pulling_ so that she was seated so deeply she must have felt it in her throat. She moaned, panting, hands now splayed on his stomach.

The cessation of movement was shocking. She sat on top of him and panted and made little noises that went straight to his cock. When she she looked at him, he deliberately uncurled his fingers from her hips and relaxed back, arms laying loose at his sides. His cock was _screaming_ for him to move, for her to move, for anyone to move if only to keep on feeling her all around him. He kept his shit together, tense and so fucking turned on that he wasn't going to last once she started moving but it would be worth it, worth it to give her total control. Finally _it felt like forever but was probably only seconds_ he saw the glint of power in her eyes, the high that comes with knowing you get to decide. She leaned down carefully, so that their groins stayed pressed close together, although she did let her hands sweep up and along his chest to cup his face forcefully in both hands. This meant that when she started moving, rolling up and around and down like a _goddamned_ carnival horse on a merry go round, she also took his mouth with hers from above.

The _taste of her_, hot and warm and sweet and thick and all _Bones_ like every other time he had kissed her, including the stolen kisses that last night in the circus trailer, just wound him tighter. "_Boooooones," _he groaned, warning her. She stopped kissing him long enough and raised her head just far enough that he could see her smile. She whispered against his mouth, in imitation of him earlier, "Hang on, Booth." His eyes widened but then her mouth was on him again and her hips were lunging and her pussy was gripping and pressing against him rhythmically and fast, working him and herself over and

then he was coming, harder than he had ever fucking come in his life. Lights flashed behind his closed eyelids he had them clenched so hard and she was pressed, sweaty and vibrating, against his body as she rode out her second climax of the morning. Long minutes passed and a part of him wanted to cry and curl around her when he felt her body get heavy in sleep. The way she trusted him awed him. Prickly and adversarial and defiant and argumentative but she trusted him from the early days of their partnership. She fought it but she did. He didn't know what it meant _but Jesus she was out cold draped all over him_. He turned his head and gripped and pulled the comforter so that it flipped over both of them. He pulled his arms out from under it and rested them at her waist to secure her and followed her into sleep.

It wasn't too much later when he roused, feeling her stirring. They were warm, but uncomfortable in this position. Bones tensed, lifting up and sliding off him. She groaned as she swung her leg over him and started to get off the bed. He pulled her down against him, tucked under his arm as he rolled onto his side. He was surprised but she allowed it, sighing and nuzzling into his neck, slipping her hand around his waist. He kissed her hair and tucked his chin against the top of her head, holding her and resting.

"Booth?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

"Yeah, Bones?" He waited to see what she would say.

"That was extremely pleasurable." He could hear the smile in her voice and his own lips curled in response.

"You can say that again...but you don't have to." He continued quickly. This time he could feel the smile against his chest.

"Booth, I probably should get up and get some work done." She sounded sorry but the beginnings of determination were in her voice. He needed to head _that_ off at the pass.

"Sorry, Bones. Before you can get up there is a little matter of my missing shirts." The silence was just an instant too long. Gotcha, Bones. Here comes the lie...

"Booth, I don't know where your shirts are. And I really don't know what they have to do with my getting up-" She started to wriggle away from him. In one quick move he rolled them both so they were back in the center of the bed, Bones spread out under him, pinned and immobilized.

"Bones. _That_ is a dirty rotten lie. You _know_ where my shirts are because you took them." Her eyes met his boldly, showing no hesitation or shifting. Oh, she was getting better, but really, she couldn't lie to _him_.

"Booth, I don't know what you are talking about."

"Bones, I'd like to make you a little wager. If I can find my shirts and prove that you took them, you have to do what I say today, as long as I know you will like it too." Her eyes flared with interest at that but also with a sharp desire to win. Tough being Bones right now, he thought unrepentantly.

"What do I get if you are proven wrong," she asked, then added, "or cannot find the shirts?"

"What do you want?"

She thought for a minute. "I don't know."

"How about...you get to keep the shirts. And," he shrugged, " I will go shirtless today, I guess." He did not miss the way her eyes shifted as she thought about that, or the small smile that she surpressed.

"Fine. But you'll be cold, walking around without a shirt on all day..." Oh the arrogance of the woman. He wasn't a "special" agent for nothing though. He already had a pretty good idea of where the shirts were.

This entire conversation had taken place with their bodies still pressed closely against each other. Now she pulled back and looked up at him. "Booth..." He resisted the urge to kiss her, knowing the sooner they started talking about this, the better. "I don't know what to say." Her hand snaked up to rest on his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone gently.

Such tenderness was not what he expected but he leaned into her hand, let her see him lean and close his eyes briefly. Then he opened them, made sure she was looking at him when he said, "I know, Bones. I don't either, but maybe...maybe we can just not know what to say..._together _for a little while. I'm tired, I have a crime to solve," her lips quirked up at that, "and dammit, I am hungry." Her brows drew in as she took an internal inventory.

"Me _too_, Booth." She sounded surprised.

"Well, I'd take you to breakfast, but there is the little matter of the missing shirts."

"I have a t-shirt you can borrow."

He thought about it and realized this would make the timing work out even better. It was noon now, by the time they got back it would be two o'clock, anyway.

"Okay, Bones. Let's go." Ready for food, he released her, rolled out of bed and strode naked toward the living room to retrieve his pants.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I want to dedicate this chapter to families: to more than one kind of family. To families of friends on twitter, to couples growing close again, to good dads who help good moms, to moms of cats and other animal family members, to daughters and sons and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and to much more unconventional or unnamed relationships of family, to supportive coworkers, to any community of readers, to people who support other people who have lived through tragedy.

I have to thank friends faithinbones, tantemary, hpaich, dharmamonkey, LSQ, stephaniew, and boneslvr38 for their encouraging words when I got scared that I was going to mess this chapter up. I might have. But better to have it in the world than not.

And finally, for Lenka, you know why.

3sq April 24, 2013

* * *

Ten minutes later they were on their way to the diner. Bones wanted to walk but he was just too hungry. Booth pushed his sunglasses up his nose with his thumb and twisted around to pull the SUV out into traffic. He caught a glimpse of the t-shirt Bones had given him to wear in the side mirror and couldn't help but smile.

"Bones, I gotta say, I can't believe you haven't worn this t-shirt before. I would have thought it was right up your alley."

"Booth, it is too big for me and the labelling of the skeleton is completely inaccurate. Why Angela thought I would be willing to wear it in public, I'll never know."

"Well, Bones. She might have bought it big so you could wear it to bed, and maybe you'd smile a little bit." He paused and looked at her, giving her a conspiratorial look. "You know, in the privacy of your own home, you can laugh at bones labelled 'smile bones' and 'chinny chin chin'."

Her mouth twitched. "Booth!"

"My personal favorite _has _to be either," he jabbed at his shoulder, "the pizza bone, or," he pulled back and craned his neck around to find the label he wanted, "the elbone."

Brennan was starting to giggle a little now. She was finding it hard to talk but she did gasp out, "I like the 'bone of contention' and where it says 'this bone is humorous'. It _is_ a very amusing shirt." She grinned at him, and he grinned back. He would _never_ have anticipated feeling this good today, not after the scene in Sweet's office yesterday evening.

_B&B_

They sat at their table at the diner. To the untrained eye, it would appear that Booth had saved his french fries for last, but he had long ago started ordering double fries when he was with Bones. And so, they sat, lunch mostly over, elbows on table, each reaching and selecting a fry from his plate. Hunger sated, Booth could tell now that weariness was catching up to Bones. Her eyes were heavy lidded, and they both had fallen silent. Just looking at her made him tired too and he slumped back in his seat. He realized how rarely she showed physical weakness and honestly, he didn't think she suppressed or hid this kind of weakness. She just always seemed to have enough energy for four people.

"Sweets thinks that we have sublimated our attraction to each other out of fear of endangering our working relationship because our working relationship is paramount to each of us."

Booth goggled at Brennan theatrically. "What the hell does that mean?"

Brennan just raised her eyebrows and peered at him knowingly, and chose another fry. He knew that once all the soft ones were gone and the only ones left were the tiny crispy ones she would stop eating them. He breathed in sharply and pushed himself back up to sitting, leaning forward on his elbows again, leaning into her space again. She just raised her eyebrows. _He never could intimidate Bones, _he thought with proprietary pride in her stubbornness or confidence or whatever it was that kept her standing when lesser mortals would have backed down.

But, he was no slouch in the stubborn department either. He took his time, eating a few more fries himself, and stalled a little by asking, "How do you know that? Did he tell you?"

"I read it in his manuscript." Her head dipped down a little and she shifted ever so slightly. Uncomfortable. He didn't say anything. _He_ didn't care if she snuck a peek, but he knew she felt very strongly about intellectual property. Finally, she said, "It _is_ _about_ us. He promised we will get to read it before he tries to have it published anyway." She didn't lean back but she did wipe her hands and mouth, finished with the food.

Booth folded his own hands together in front of his chin and turned his head to gaze sightlessly out the window for a long minute, before giving up his nugget of information. "Gordon Gordon doesn't agree with him."

Now it was Brennan's turn to be surprised. "And how do you know _that_?"

"Sweets told me." His brown eyes twinkled up at her from under his brows. "I don't think he meant to, but I ran into him just after his meeting with Gordon Gordon finished up. I didn't really know what he was talking about but now that you told me what Sweets said in his book, it makes sense. He said that Dr. Wyatt didn't agree with the most fundamental conclusion in his book and wouldn't even tell him what he thought was the _real_ reason and then he clammed up and went off to sulk in his office."

There didn't seem to be much to say after that. Or rather, there was a lot to say that neither was sure how to say. Brennan went to the restroom and Booth rose and paid their tab at the counter. When she returned, stopping by his side, he was putting the tip under the salt and pepper shaker. He glanced over and watched her watching his hand, his two fingers pushing the bills and shakers away from the edge of the table. She seemed mesmerized and he let his fingertips rest on the edge of the table a minute until she glanced up at him, her mouth open a little, eyes dilated with _something_.

_Fuck_. He didn't know exactly what she was thinking but something hot, that much was clear. He had been careful not to touch her in public but now he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the diner. He stayed a little bit ahead of her, hand on hers, for another two blocks until there was a side street with some privacy. He had her pressed up against the bricks of the building before she could say anything, and his mouth covered hers, hungry _hungry_ before she could do anything. Her body stiffened and pressed back against him, her own desire matching his. He tore his mouth away from hers and kissed his way down her face to her neck, his fingers in her hair pulling her head back to bare her throat to him. He growled low in his throat.

He was vaguely shocked at the sound, at the loss of control. His mouth moved over her neck.

* * *

_An Interlude_

"And so let's hear it for Boris the Brave and the Knee-knockingly lovely...Natasha!"

"Come on, Boris!" Brennan took his arm and waving her golden gloves in sweeping arcs, led Booth off through the red curtained opening in the tent.

Brennan giggled and gestured in excitement. "They _loved us!_ You were great. Superb eye hand coordination, there..._Bucky_."

Booth's eyes mirrored her excitement but his voice was intense as he whispered, "I could have _killed_ you."

Brennan dismissed this with a cocky grin and said through her teeth, "Therein lies the _excitement_ for the _spectators_!" And then added, "I was thinking that I could wear a hat of fruit..."

"Bones, it's over." Booth leaned over her, the eye make-up at the corner of his eyes making his face almost mask-like and sad. "No more undercover...act."

Brennan's face fell, her smokey makeup and black eye lending her face a similar air of sadness.

"We have to go question the other performers." Booth said with finality tossing his last knife on top of the pile.

"Right," said Brennan in resignation. "Right."

Later, after the sad story of Jennie and Julie's fall from the highwire had come out along with the still raw grief of their circus family and the love implicit in the burial and handling of their bodies, Booth and Brennan made their way back to shelter of the trailer. They had helped as they could, and Booth had stood by Magnum and the rest of the group as Magnum was taken into custody. Now, Brennan climbed into the trailer and held the door for Booth who clamored heavily up behind her.

"What's this?" Brennan asked.

"What's what?" Booth craned his neck over her shoulder. There, on the fold-up dinette in the little kitchen stood a clear glass bottle with a red bow. Brennan reached out for it and read the inscription on the little card.

"_Congratulations! To the bravest and best Russian knife performers we know. Angela, Jack, and Cam._" She turned the bottle toward him. Vodka. From Russia, given the untranslated Cyrillic on the bottle.

"You know, Booth, there are many common toasts in Russia-"

"Bones, I'm not a total hick. I know 'Vasha zdorovie!'"

"That's 'To your health', Booth, although correct. Pretty standard in any language. There are others though-"

"Stop. Just stop, Bones. Let's just start with one, okay? You can teach me all the others and tell me all about the different customs and hats and secret handshakes they use in Moscow, but only-" He turned, opened a cabinet, and pulled down a couple of cheap coffee mugs-"once I have had a drink, okay?" He held out the cups and waited for her to pour a measure into each.

"Are you going to leave your moustache on?"

"Hell yeah, I am. Russian toast, Russian vodka, Russian moustache."

"I don't think the moustache is especially Russian-" Brennan started a new lecture, but Booth just pushed the mug at her.

"Bones. Drink." Her lips pressed together in consternation but his eyes were still sad and she held his gaze for a minute before she said, quietly. "Tvoyo Zdorovie." And added quickly, "I used the familiar form of _you_ since I know you so well."

Booth just spoke over her, imitating her instead of arguing. "Tvoyo Zdorovie." They both drank, gasping a little as the alcohol burned its way to their stomachs, and the mugs sounded their ceremonial clunks against the formica. Booth sighed heavily. "I guess we should check in with the lab." He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and turned away. "Maybe eat something, head back..."

He sidled down the narrow hall to the tiny bathroom and disappeared behind the pocket door. Brennan sat for a minute, thinking, then opened her laptop and typed out a quick update and thank you to the lab, before shutting it down for the night. When Booth came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he found an array of food laid out on the table. Half a loaf of french bread, some deli turkey, a plate full of washed grapes, half a block of cheddar cheese, some crackers, apple slices, cherry tomatoes, a jar of pickles.

At noise from behind him, he turned to see Brennan just starting to slip into the bathroom. He called out, "Hey, thanks for the picnic here, Bones."

She smiled a little, "Sure, Booth. I don't know about you, but I'm tired and shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach. Give me a second; I'll be right out and we can decide what to do."

A few minutes later, he heard the pocket door open and close but continued to build a sandwich. He could feel Brennan come stand close, watching him work, apparently. He pressed firmly on the top of the bread to make the sandwich stick together and said. "Now, _that's_ a sandwich, Bones, you wa-" He glanced up at her and shouted in surprised laughter.

On the middle of Bones' beautiful and bruised face sat his moustache.

He laughed so hard he had to bend over, hands on knees, to breathe. She was snickering as soon as he started laughing, thrilled with the effect of her little joke, and every time he looked up at her, they guffawed in big, breathy bursts of sound. Eventually Booth stood, holding onto her by the shoulders for support and wheezing at the antics of the incredible dancing rodent on her lip. She leaned into him finally, resting her head against his red vest so he couldn't see her until the giggles subsided.

They weren't exactly embracing; you couldn't call this even a guy hug. Brennan's head resting against his shoulder. One of Booth's hands was still holding her shoulder, his thumb moving just a little on her lovely skin.

"Damn that was funny." Booth said, a last chuckle bubbling up gently. "That was a good one, Bones."

"Thank you, Booth. I can be quite amusing." As she spoke, he felt the moustache move against his skin where the vest ended.

"Bones, let's take this off you." And he pushed her back to look at her one last time, a smile lingering on his lips as he took in the sight of her. "Bones, have you ever kissed a man with a moustache or full beard? What does it feel like?"

Brennan looked thoughtfully up at him and instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. "Do you want to find out?" At his surprised look, she added. "By way of an experiment, I mean."

A smile still playing around his lips, and a light swirl of vodka in his bloodstream, he pressed his lips softly to hers. Brennan almost sighed in pleasure at the feel of his soft lips against hers. Her breath, or his, however, stirred the hair of the moustache and made her nose itch. She backed away, frowning.

She felt his warm hand cup her face. She looked up at him inquisitively. His face was curious and solemn, like he was actually invested in the outcome of the experiment. While one hand held her still, the other gently removed the moustache, turning slightly and dropping it deliberately into the trash can nearby. And then he leaned down and kissed her again.

Brennan's head whirled. Maybe that one shot of vodka had affected her more than she thought. His lips moved firmly on hers. She swallowed her moan, and closed her eyes so that they wouldn't reveal her weakness. _This might have been a mistake. But it felt so good_. He pulled away, mouth slightly open against hers in the end so that she knew the taste as well as the feel of him. _When had that happened?_

Her eyes stayed shut just a moment too long, and when she opened them he seemed disconcertingly unaffected.

"I didn't like it." His voice was deep and rough. He probably was tired after their long day, the cramped sleeping quarters last night.

"Didn't like what?" she asked, a little worried. He didn't like the kiss?

"Kissing someone with a moustache."

Relief. "Oh, well, I am sure you won't have the chance often, unless you decide to enter into a relationship with another man." She analyzed his chances automatically and clinically. He responded with weak outrage.

"Bones, I'm not gay!"

"I know, Booth, I'm just saying that it is probably more likely that you would kiss another man with a moustache than another woma-"

"Bones. Stop. Just stop would you!" He was half laughing again. "Here, I want to have another drink, but not if you want to go home tonight. I don't want to drink more and then have to drive this mobile home home." Her eyes lit up at how silly that sounded.

"Listen, we're tired, both of us, and I didn't kill you today. Cause enough for a little celebration. Here, have a seat." He pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. He lifted the bottle and waved it at her gently. "I'll pour you another but not if you want to go home." He raised his eyebrows in question.

She looked at him, really looked. The arrows at the corners of his eyes gave him a piratical air that only enhanced his ridiculously handsome and symmetrical features. She thought again that he looked tired, and reflected quickly on what they were not saying.

Steeling herself, she raised her chin and said, "We just kissed."

He agreed calmly. "Yes. As an experiment."

She nodded, then breathed out in a rush. "I'd like to suggest that we resolve something now, before we start drinking this bottle of vodka." Looked pointedly at the bottle.

"Oh-kaaaay." He drew out the word and waited, head cocked a little, interested.

"If, once our inhibitions are lowered, we were to...experiment...more, then we should agree now not to let things go...farther than the boundaries we set."

"For the experiment." He stated, a smile just curving his lips again.

She smiled a little back. "Yes. For the experiment."

"The experiment in kissing."

"Yes."

He moved suddenly and she almost jumped in surprise. But he was just reaching for the mugs, pouring them another shot of vodka. "All right, Bones. Tell me another one, another toast."

Brennan considered and discarded a few due to the sentimentality built in to many Russian toasts (To love! To women!), and settled for the favorite of graduate students everywhere. (Let's get started!) "Poyekhali, Booth!"

He clumsily copied her and they clinked glasses, downing their shots in a single swallow. Booth reached behind him for one of his throwing knives, ostentatiously cutting his sandwich in two and removing the turkey from one half, handing it to her. "Eat." And smiled, his eyes steady on hers, bright with promise.

_B&B_

"Booth, you are very bossy." Brennan happily informed him a little while later as he tried to get her to eat another sandwich. They had eaten the first half and Brennan had eaten some grapes while Booth devoured another whole sandwich. Talking about the triumphant one and only performance of Boris and Natasha and their Knives of Death, they relived the details of their adventure as they ate. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Well, do you want another drink?"

"Yes, I think I would. But you know what else?"

"What, Bones?"

"I would like to dance." For some reason, at the mention of dancing, they both became aware of the sounds of the circus outside the tent. Presumably part of some nighttime routine, they could hear shouts and grinding, some engine sounds and the barking of dogs. At this intrusion of the outside world, and with the knowledge of human fallibility and weakness, they both paused a minute. Booth's hand crept across the table and squeezed Brennan's.

"C'mon, Bones, let's dance." He tugged her up. She forced a smile.

"Booth, we don't have any music."

"Sing."

"What?"

"Sing something."

Without waiting for her to decide, he pulled her into his arms. One of his arms wrapped around her waist and this meant that hers fell naturally around his too. He folded his free hand over hers, and moved them in small easy steps around the tiny floor space available. Finally, her quiet voice joined the sound of their shuffling feet.

"I've been thinking about, all the times you told me, you're so full of doubt

You just can't let it be, But I know, If you keep comin' back for more, Then I'll keep on tryin', Keep on tryin'..."

Booth smiled ruefully. "I thought you'd pick something a little more upbeat, Bones." But then his deep bass joined her and they even managed a little shaky harmony in a few parts before ending up swaying close together.

"Booth?"

"Yes, Bones?"

"Have you ever kissed anyone taller than you?"

"You mean have I ever gone out with a woman who is taller than me?"

"Yes. Unless you have kissed a man who is-"

"Bones, let's not start this again!"

"Okay, then. A woman who is taller than you."

"Nope. I'm pretty tall."

"Well, here, boost me up."

And so he did. Boosted her up onto the tiny counter, cupboard pressed into her back. She grinned down at him as he tilted his head back to look up at her.

"I like this."

He nodded teasingly. "I can see that."

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"For the experiment." He let that one pass and closed his eyes, curious.

And this time, he had to suppress _his_ moan. He had anticipated small touches, a tentative kiss, but instead, he felt her hand grip his chin and her mouth press at his firmly, almost aggressively. He managed to hold back the moan but couldn't help but respond. His mouth opened beneath hers and she licked into his mouth. His head tipped back even farther, baring his throat, giving her total control. She let her lips suck and press all along his mouth, from the very corners to the wet and hungry center of him. The fingers of one hand bracketed his throat. He didn't think she was aware that she ran her fingers over the skin there, feeling the cartilage and his adam's apple under the skin. She settled into long minutes of kissing him over and over, beginning and ending a series of open mouthed caresses. His head was spinning and he couldn't _wouldn't_ stop her but he couldn't believe that she was letting things go this far.

When she kissed his mouth closed, finally, she let her face drop down onto his. Her nose rested gently against his face, and her lips were parted next to his as she breathed heavily, obviously affected. He was relieved that he wasn't the only one.

"We aren't drunk enough for this experiment."

"I couldn't agree more, Bones." And grabbed her, lifted her from where she sat, so quickly that she squealed like...like...well, a girl, the girl she never really was. It made him smile, but he kept things light, settled her on her feet. "Okay, Bones. We need a plan. First, though, drink."

They sat back down at the dinette, pushed the food to one side. Booth reached across the aisle into the kitchen junk drawer and removed a pack of cards.

"Booth, you can't gamble."

"I'm not gambling, Bones, but I need to do something with my hands. We're going to play a game."

"What game?"

"Nevermind what it's called. You just do what I tell you and get used to losing."

"I will not lose." She replied haughtily. "What are the rules?"

He split the deck in two and gave her half, then explained the game: the game is over when one person has all the cards. She liked the sound of that, he could tell. You could win cards by slapping the pile faster than the opponent in certain circumstances. She liked the sound of that even more, and he had to admit, she was spookily fast. In the end, an hour later, they each had won a match and the level of vodka in the bottle significantly lower than when they started.

"Booth." The change in tone alerted him.

"No, Bones."

"What?"

"Just no, Bones. I don't think I can handle it."

"What? You don't even know what I am going to say!"

"I don't have to know. I can tell you want to propose more...experiments. Are you trying to kill me, Bones?"

She smiled and winked. _Winked!_ "Are you saying that I am better at kissing experiments than you are Booth?"

"No. I think we are both fucking awesome at kissing experiments." Far from being shocked at his vulgarity, the tightening of the tiny muscles around her eyes and the almost imperceptible twitch of her lips told him that she was interested. He was tired. He was drunk. Not as drunk as he ever had been, but definitely _extremely buzzed._ And, it seemed, he was the only one thinking of the fact that they had to leave this trailer one day soon.

Bones interrupted these thoughts. "I'm going to make tea, Booth. I want tea, something hot. Would you like some?"

"No, Bones. Thanks. I'm good." He laid out a hand of solitaire and played while she made her tea. A few minutes later, she rejoined him and watched him play, sipping her tea. When he finished with only 8 cards unplayed, she smiled and rose again, swinging open the little freezer. She removed a square wrapped package, tossing it to him boldly, assuming obviously that he would catch it. Which he did. Handily, of course.

"What's this?" But he knew already. It was an ice cream bar. She came back to the table and seemed to consider whether to sit right next to him or back in her chair across from him. He was simultaneously disappointed and relieved when she returned to her seat opposite.

"Thanks, Bones. Where did you get this?"

"It was in the freezer. The field office must have put in the supplies. I didn't think to check the freezer until earlier today." The cold ice cream felt good in his mouth; the freezer must be a good one because the ice cream was frozen solid. It was only getting a little soft at the very edges. He popped another piece in his mouth as Bones stood and changed seats, scooting the chair forward so that her legs were on either side of one of his.

"Wha...what are you doing?" His voice sounded thin to his ears.

"Nothing terrible, Booth. Just one last experiment. A little one. Eat your ice cream." Caught by the playfulness in her eyes and concerned that this undercover assignment had uncovered-perhaps permanently-a previously unplumbed recklessness in his partner, he nevertheless put the last piece in his mouth. She watched him chew and swallow, and drank her tea. When he swallowed for the last time, she leaned forward and pressed her hot mouth to his cool one. She tasted like tea and the warmth of her mouth made him gasp. She was the one who moaned though, just a low breath of a sound, but he heard it. The sound penetrated his body, spread through his skin, and he couldn't help but bring his hand up to hold her in place, touch the smooth edges of her jaw, as his mouth moved gently over hers.

Finally, he pulled back far enough that he could see the heavily smudged make-up, so endearing on her usually perfect face. His stomach dropped a little, as it had every time he looked at her black eye. He gave in and suggested his own experiment. "Have you ever tried to kiss a boo boo better?"

Even drunk, sleepy, and if he was any judge, _aroused_, Bones got that snotty, dismissive look on her face at his question. "Booth, that is ridiculous. Injuries cannot be healed by kissing."

Their faces were still close, however, and she hadn't pulled away. He could feel her breath on his lips and knew she could tell he was breathing faster than normal too.

"Maybe, Bones. But what do you have to lose?"

He leaned forward slowly, his eyes on hers and her eyes widened slightly as he got closer. When he got close enough that he couldn't focus on her features any more, he saw her eyes drift shut. He started with the outer edge of her right eye and kissed tiny kisses across her eyelid, lingering in the inner corner before kissing across the bridge of her nose to her other eye. Slowly, softly, he made his way across her tender injured eye. A small sigh escaped her this time. He slowly decreased the pressure on her eye until there was space separating them. He let that space grow until he could see her clearly but not so far that he couldn't feel her breath on his face.

The silence shivered between them until Booth stood up smoothly, legs trapped by their chairs, and held out his hand. "C'mon, Bones." She was surprised, obviously, but let him take her hand and lift her to her feet.

Suddenly tired, he dropped his hand and all but whispered. "Let's get some sleep, Bones. I'm tired and I'm drunk and today was a shitty way to end a case." He swivelled and bumped her shoulder a little. "But not tonight. Tonight was a good way to end a case."

She looked like she might protest, but something in the set of his jaw, the sadness that still lingered in his eyes, muted her. "Okay, Booth." She leaned her head forward against him and despite himself, he put his arms around her. She let herself get heavy, fast, and he staggered back, letting their momentum lead them toward the bed. On the way to the tiny compartment, he flicked off the overhead light and snapped the lock on the door. Not that he trusted that flimsy lock to keep them safe. He had a gun tucked nearby on his side of the bed. In fact, he had slept with it uncomfortably pressed against his leg last night as he tried to stay as far from her as possible, lest she wake with morning wood pressed up against her ass.

Too late for that now, he thought, as she draped herself over him and snuggled close. Good thing he was sleeping in his jeans. He reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, throwing them across the room. She mumbled something and pressed her face against him deeper, alcohol and fatigue pulling her down fast, so fast that even as he drifted off _reaching out to make sure his gun was still where he put it_, he could hear her gentle snores.

The next morning, they woke to mild hangovers and the uncomfortable feeling that comes with having slept fully clothed next to someone you have always wanted to sleep with but aren't sure you should.

_B&B_

Brennan: They're gone.

Booth: Yeah.

Brennan: We slept through it?

Booth: Yeah. Look at that (he looks at the paper and reads) Boris and Natasha and their russian knives of death. Guess we all got it in us, because I would have run off and joined the circus.

Brennan (looking at paper): We did it.

Booth: Buck and Wanda were damn good.

Brennan: Buck was more dashing than you. I mean Buck, drove a motorcycle

Booth: Well Wanda was funner than you.

Brennan: How?

Booth: Well she let me knock off a rubber nose from her face with a knife. You would never let me do that, you are way too rational.

Brennan: Where do you think they are now?

Booth: Over the horizon.

_From the transcripts to Season 4: Double Trouble in the Panhandle_


	6. Chapter 6

He wasn't sure, later, how they got back to her apartment without crashing.

His hands were up her shirt in the alley before he came to his senses and ripped them out from under the cotton, off her breasts, backing up one step, two, until he had enough _never enough_ space between them. He reached out with one hand, slowly like she might bite when really _he_ was the one that might bite, and he just barely took the very tips of her fingers in his. He was afraid that if he touched any more of her, he would fuck her against the wall of the alley. And damned if she didn't look like she'd be happy with that. Bones seemed relatively unaffected…able to walk and maybe even would be able to talk to him if he could manage to make human speech come from his throat, tight as it was with tension and the desire to put his mouth on her in all the places that he hadn't discovered last night _what kind of fucking idiot was he that he hadn't kissed her in those places yet_?

Bones was curiously passive, letting him drag her out of the diner, and then again later, to the SUV. But her eyes were bright with desire but they also held an intense glint of squinty curiosity. That _look_—the one she gave remains, bones, people who claimed to be experts—_that_ look made him hot and angry in equal parts. She hadn't turned its full power against him in longer than he could remember, but he felt it now: measuring, dissecting, judging, predicting.

At the SUV, he couldn't resist and opened her door for her. As she started to protest, he growled out, "Don't, Bones, just _don't_." And she subsided, glaring a little. _Fuck that. _ He opened the door, pushed her back against the exposed side of the seat, and pressed his mouth against her from above. As if she expected it, she opened up to him, gave him _everything_. The heat of her mouth, the taste of her, the way she responded to him, _wild_ like she would do anything, take him anyway she chould get him. His cock throbbed in his jeans and he moved even closer to her. He couldn't _believe_ how quickly she had gained the upper hand _damn it_. He slipped his hands under her shirt and lifted her up and practically threw her into the seat, spinning and slamming the door behind him.

She was buckling her seatbelt when he lunged into his own seat. Jaw thrust forward, tense, he glanced at her and felt his body relax a little when he saw how she was struggling to get the buckle to work, her hands shaking and weak. Finally she managed it. He didn't bother with his own seatbelt, of course, and he tore out of the parking lot into traffic with barely a glance at the traffic alongside. They rode the five minutes to her apartment in silence. Booth concentrated on driving as fast as possible, breathing through his nose. The one time he looked at Brennan, she was looking away from him out the window. The curve of her naked neck was so sexy and desirable, he wanted to lunge at her and taste her there, mark her, make her cry out with pleasure. The sound of honking horns intruded and he realized he had drifted too far to the left. The truck lurched back into its lane and as she turned toward him, he looked away, kept his eyes straight ahead. If he looked at her, he'd pull over. _Jesus. The goddamn wolves were howling and ripping inside of him. He could feel the violence and the chase deep in his bones, knew she was his quarry, but more than prey, somehow more. _Booth shook his head to clear it, ran his hands through his hair, already a little wet with sweat. _Christ he was hot._ God help him if he pulled over.

He parked out back again and they made it to the elevator. He followed her in and pressed his back to the wall farthest from her which was good because people joined them at the next floor. Surrounded by a family, another couple, he let his eyes seek hers. She wasn't looking at him, but she shifted as he stared. He willed her to look and finally, with a mulish expression on her face, she raised her eyes to him.

He didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but he did know he wasn't going to make this easy for her. With a ding, the elevator stopped at her floor and the each moved through the people keeping them apart into the hallway. He followed her down and, as she fit the key in the lock, he stepped in close to her, let her feel the heat and press of his big body behind hers, and slid his hands around her waist, under her shirt, across her soft belly to cup her breasts. Her head came back abruptly as she arched her body, pushing herself back into him and up into his hands simultaneously. Booth grabbed at the chance to catch her mouth with his own, curling around her to reach her lips with his. This time, after a minute, she was the one who pulled away and forward, pushing the door wide behind her.

She turned, ready to meet him with her hands, her body, her mouth, but he stalked past her and, with a surprised, "Booth—" she followed him. He could hear her pick up speed as she realized where he was going but he was ahead of her now and before she could stop him, he was in her bathroom, opening the cabinet doors under her sink, reaching in to withdraw his shirts.

"_How_ could you have known?" Her voice held that mixture of frustration and awe that it always did when his special blend of intuition and deduction led him to discover something she hadn't dreamed anyone who wasn't as clever as she could.

He stepped right up into her, his hand fisted around the clothing, and pressed his mouth hungrily to hers, tongue plunging into her mouth, reaching for what he needed, licking and sucking lightly at her lips until they were both panting. "Jupiter, Bones. Daisy. Jasper. I know you. I don't have a fucking clue what you are thinking half the time but I know you, babe." He felt almost angry. He didn't know where the gentler, protective Booth from the club last night had gone, but the urge to needle her, provoke her, was strong in his gut.

He wanted to test her. No, he didn't want to test her. He knew she would pass. Pretty sure anyway. He wanted _needed_ to give her...show her...have her know him and not...run. Not turn away or be...frightened by him. Last night she had given him a glimpse of something he never knew he could have. Even with all she had given him, he hadn't guessed that maybe _just fucking maybe_ his partner was not only the best friend he had ever had, the best professional partner he had never wanted, but maybe she...maybe she wouldn't...he couldn't even look at it, at what he thought she might be, might represent. Maybe...

He drew back enough that she opened her eyes and cocked her head in question. He waggled his hand back and forth gently, mocking. Before she could ask though, he ordered. "Bed. Now. And if you think you are doing anything else today, you are crazy, Bones."

And she fucking surprised him again.

Slowly, she smiled, turned and ran. Too far into the dark to laugh, he nevertheless thrilled to the joy of the chase and ran after her, stalking, tossing the fabric in his hand aside and letting her get ahead and even begin the crawl across the bed before he tackled her.

He flipped her over roughly and straddled her, leaning on her wrists to keep her immobilized. She arched up to catch his mouth. Even pinned, she managed to take some control back for herself. "_Bones_." He ground out against her mouth.

"_Booth_." She answered him, letting his mouth press her back into the pillows. Her hands shifted and he released her immediately, letting her snake her arms up around his neck and thread through his hair.

"_Bones_." He said again, and he was not surprised to hear the note of pleading in his voice because he could feel it in his throat.

"_What_, Booth?" But he just looked at her, breathing hard until she lay back again, arms up by her sides, unbound but still. Deliberately, she opened herself to him. He reached into the neck of her t shirt and pulled, ripping the shirt in half, needing to release some of his energy, his drive to take her. Her body bucked upward, her eyelids drooped in capitulation and surrender to his need. He slid a hand under her, against her naked back and lifted so that he could slide the pieces of her shirt off her arms and unhook her bra, tossing it aside with the scraps of fabric. He again pressed her arms to the bed next to her head.

Sure that she would stay still, he dropped down to unbutton her jeans, pull them with her panties down her legs, paw her sneakers and shoes off too. Then he was moving up the inside of her legs with his mouth, gripping and stroking her legs with his hands, tickling the sensative skin behind her knees with the rough blunt ends of his calloused fingers. Great, sweeping caresses of his mouth on the silky skin of her inner thighs, and as he moved upward, he could smell her: heat and salt and desire. And he could hear her. Little needy sounds, high pitched stuttering moans of pressure and pleasure and when he reached his goal, the brush of the hair between her legs soft against his cheek, he paused just a second, breathing hard against her, _Bones._ He slid a finger into her. Out and in. She was so fucking wet that he thought he would come in his pants. That was for _him. Actually for him_. When he looked up, he could see her face, eyes closed, head moving slightly _no no no no_ in blind desire and raw need. He let his tongue reach out to lick her lightly and then deeper in. He added another finger. When he suckled just a little at her clit, she broke, crying out a long descending note of release and pleasure.

He couldn't believe how fast she tipped over that edge and it ratcheted his own need that much tighter. He scooted himself up on his elbow as she convulsed around his hand, her own hands fisted by her head, and he leaned over and took her breast in his mouth. Convulsing still, she moaned. _Oh, no more_. _Please no more. Enough. _Booth fumbled, ripped at the snap on his jeans pushing them down down even as he rose up over her and speared, hard, into her. Beyond finesse or control, his arms and body shook and trembled even as he lunged hard into her. He was in no position to stop her hands from moving from their place to start stroking him. His nipples, his chest, up his neck, along his arms. Stroking and touching and clutching at his back, mapping his body, reminding him that he was hers too. Her nails dug into the muscles of his back lightly and with the tiny bite of pain, he broke, coming hard and long and so damn sweet that he couldn't stop his mouth moving on her sweaty shoulder over and over and over.

He came to rest on her, their long bodies a match for one another. He felt unconsciousness pulling at him; eyes only half open, he dragged himself to the side, kicking the jeans still tangled at his angles off, off, onto the floor. Finally both naked the way they _always _should be, he thought that maybe he should cover her but it was too much. Booth threw an arm across her to anchor her _him_ and moved just his head to press against her side before succumbling to sleep.

When he woke, it was dark. He felt better, more rested than he had in a long time. Unlike this morning, he knew just where he was, who he was with. He could smell Bones, feel her sweet body curled around him. Involuntarily, he moved one of his hands to cover hers where it rested against his stomach. They were under a sheet so Bones must have gotten them under the covers somehow. God, he had been out cold, how had she gotten him to move?

He felt the same fierce possessiveness and, yes, anger, rise up in him again and fought it back. She was stirring all kinds of things up in him and he didn't want that, he just wanted, wanted _her_, the chance to see where this went, the right to see where this went. He was a simple man, okay? He was overthinking this. In fact, he didn't want to be thinking at all.

Booth scooted closer to her and lifted her against him so that they were on their sides, pressed together. She sighed and shifted against him so they fit perfectly. He bit his lip to stay silent as she wriggled into the perfect alignment. Part of him wanted to just slide into her and wake her by loving her, but he didn't know if she would want to be surprised that way. Instead he nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed the sweet sleepy skin there until he was tasting her along her jaw, behind her ear.

He felt the moment that she woke, stretching slightly against him and involuntarily pressing against his erection. "Mmmmm." She hummed. She turned her head. She kissed him softly. Deeply. She rolled her hips, pressing and rubbing against his cock. Once. Twice. Then she did something, moved somehow so that he was sliding into her and she was rolling, around and against him. Still moaning, "Mmmmmm. Oh, _Booth_." And he wanted to see, to watch, wanted to push back and watch their bodies come together but he also didn't want to be farther than this from her, their chests tight against one another, his hand on the small of her back keeping her close.

For the first time, they weren't rushed and ridden, and it was even more evident during this slow, sweet, just-woken loving that the intensity of their arousal had less to do with strong bodies, perfect acromia, than with long repressed longing and compatibility and mutual respect. Their mouths were never more than a breath away. When Booth finally felt himself pulling against the rush of sensation to come, he slid his hands in between them to roll and twist her nipples, sending sharp spikes of pleasure through her. Her cry, when she broke, was muffled by his mouth, and his mouth moved soundlessly and convulsively against hers as he came, her taste more prominent in his awareness than the rush of pleasure through his cock.

"Booth?" Her voice was soft and a little husky from sleep and...emotion?

"Yeah, Bones?" He answered her right away but kept his eyes shut, his lips still pressed to her face, his body still warm and a little sweaty against hers.

"I never take naps." The disgruntled whine and whisper of her voice made him smile.

"Well, there is a first time for everything, Bones." His voice was raspy with sleep still.

"That is self-evident, Booth."

"Well, so is the fact that you _do_ take naps. Since you just took one." He silenced her next protest with his mouth. And then. "Are you still tired?"

"A little, but I am hungry again." She really sounded put out now. "I haven't done any work today."

He kissed her long and not as hard as he wanted. "Well, Bones, this has been a pretty unusual weekend for both of us." Maybe he sounded a little bit emotional himself now. "Are you sorry we…spent the day together?"

She was quiet, thinking, for much too long. Any other woman would have protested immediately, responding to his expression of insecurity. Bones just wanted to tell him the truth and to do that, she needed to know what it was.

"No. I am not sorry. But I would feel better if maybe we got up for a while? Had some dinner? Did something together?"

"Sure, Bones, sure. Let's get cleaned up and maybe order some food. Watch a movie or something?"

"Can we play the card game we played in the trailer that time? That was very stimulating. I have worked out a strategy that I believe will allow me to win approximately 81% of the time. I had not completely assimilated the idea that the matching pairs could either be truly consecutive or one away from being so..." She rose and he had to let her go even though, as her sweaty body peeled away from his, he wanted to snatch her back. Picking up her clothes from beside the bed and draping them over a shadowy chair nearby, Bones babbled about her plans for the game and the variations that would make it more or less interesting or difficult to win or play. Booth felt relief that she was being her squinty self and followed her gamely into her bathroom, with its big shower with extra water jets.

In the shower, enough hot water for two spraying from three directions, he pulled her slippery body against his. "Bones. How are you?" His hands tentatively wove between hers.

Her fingers curled and pressed a little against his, unwittingly reassuring, and she leaned forward to rest her head against his bare shoulder. When she turned to kiss it a little, he smiled at her tenderness, and then met her eyes as she sighed and straightened.

"I am well, Booth. But how did you know where I put your shirts?"

He laughed, "I wasn't sure _where_ in the bathroom they were but I was pretty sure that taking them was an impulse on your part, not a premeditated attempt to steal my clothes for yourself. Bones, can I ask you a question?"

Her head tipped back so she could meet his eyes. He enjoyed being able to see her in the bright light of the bathroom. "Yes, Booth, you may."

"What...what made you..._look_ at me like that in the diner. I...I mean, I am the one who dragged you out, but it was because you...you just looked like you, you..." He trailed off uncomfortably, not sure how to say what he thought he saw.

She brought one of their intertwined hands up, pulling hers out of his and raising his first two fingers, curling the other two down into his palm, crossing them with his thumb. "I have a confession to make, Booth. I find your hands very arousing. Objectively, they are very strong and often tan from the time you spend outside. Your fingers are long and ought to be delicate and while you are extremely dexterous, they are unquestionably and," here her lips pressed together in embarrassed consternation, "_subjectively_ masculine, with pleasingly prominent tendons and striking architecture. And," she continued in a rush, as if she had steeled herself to get it all out, "the fact that your hands are rough and calloused is very arousing. Something about the way your fingers rested on the table..." She felt silent against the pounding of the water, uncertain how to say that his fingers made her _hot._

Suddenly, it was just all _too much_. He just needed things to be normal for a little while, couldn't really process how much he hoped, how much he wanted. He turned her around and, taking a small pool of shampoo in his hands, massaged the soap into her hair, rubbing in small circles until her neck softened and her head lolled back against his chest. He squeezed the now dense foam out and rinsed it with cups full of hot water until the water ran clear. They finished up washing, themselves and each other, and climbed out of the shower together, drying off, surprisingly comfortable with each other's naked body.

Eventually, they made their way back to the bedroom, to underwear and jeans, shirts and watches. Brennan put on socks and started to pad out into the living room when Booth's voice stopped her. "Bones."

She turned and looked at him inquisitively. He stepped forward toward the door, toward _her._ He stopped a few feet away, glancing down at his bare feet and a little worried that he hadn't been able to shave. A lot of women liked some stubble on a man, but he didn't know about Bones. He realized, in real shock, that this was actually one area of Bones' life that he knew very little about, in part because he had shut her down every time she started talking about sex or sexuality.

She seemed, for once, to read the question, hear the unspoken plea in his body, and stepped back to close the distance between them. Bones slipped her arms around his waist and rested against him in a generous full-body hug that reminded him of every other time they had embraced like this. And suddenly, he didn't feel as if they were charting new territory. He was Booth, and she was Bones. They would figure this out, just like they always did. He let his hand drift up press her head against him, against her own t-shirt on his body, and he let his own neck bend. He bent into her so that his own face pressed into the angle of her neck and shoulder.

He let himself be reassured by her scent and shape and the feel of her own strong hands on his back.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I didn't know that I had all this to say. Thank you for all your expressions of delight and encouragement. Love, Michele

Thank you to everyone who has read and favorited and followed and lurked. Thank you to those of you who reviewed. Thank you to:

Alicia9876 who wants the words, Covalent Bond who sees more and more clearly than I do, Fluffybird who is the master of metaphor, the dud pistachio for calling them sexcapades, Kamuiiro for liking Booth's hands with me, katyrosek for helping me call the muse, boston legal girl for enthusiastic words and reading the whole thing at once!, dharmamonkey for mettā and for every time she says "holy hell, woman" in a review and for liking my Booth, redgirllang for always being right there with a review and encouragement, SammieAtHome for seeing things differently and wishing they stayed in the alley, luckywynner86 for being able to see it all in her mind, Wendish for saying that the story was like music for her, DWBBFan for exclamation points and for wanting to see Brennan undercover, givesup for seeing everything I wanted anyone to see and for reflecting the best of what is there, faithinbones for unreserved and relentless advocacy and for saying that she couldn't put it down, grc73 for her enthusiasm and impressions , Rangers042376 for liking the tshirt part!, BonesOMG for wishing there were more, ShaniJP for liking my B&B, boldtvillemayor for her kind words, Boneslenka for sharing what she thinks is sexiest, Becksbones for using the word 'delicious', BNB447 for loving it, Jennie1701 for being wary of too much angst but willing to stick it out anyway,geraghtyvl for always being willing to talk or read about Bones!,maneu for kind words and dedicated readership, Bluemuriel for Yowza, timesquaretang for her optimism, casket4mytears for calling it grapefruit, NatesMama for use of the word cathartic, Jazzyproz for appreciating agression, EverythingEventually for having fun, Dancingfool5 for saying such a nice thing, and finally lee for worrying about Booth.

April 27, 2013

* * *

He was barefoot.

He had probably taken his shoes off at her apartment before, maybe walked around in socks, but barefoot? He got a strange warm feeling in his stomach as he walked around her apartment barefoot. His feet were bare. He didn't have socks on because he took them off and he took them off to have sex _with Bones_. He smiled at the thought, at the feel of cool tile against the soles of his feet as he washed and dried a couple of apples at her sink.

They played cards, ate Thai food, and ultimately watched _The Philadelphia Story _on her laptop. She had to get a goddamned tv. But even that made him smile and the anger and unease that had bubbled in his stomach for some of the last 24 hours seemed to have subsided. Great sex would do that, he supposed, and his arm tightened where it rested around her shoulders. She didn't respond. Her body was heavy against him, warm and curvy in the crook of his arm. He pulled his head back so that he could look down at her face, already anticipating what he found.

She was asleep. A familiar wave of tenderness mixed with a smaller wash of relief that he had successfully gotten through the evening without discussion. He knew they would have to talk, have to face the fact that they had changed their partnership. Her words from last night drifted through his head. "_There is more, Booth. More than me being locked in a trunk. And I know there is more than just what you said tonight too."_ No. _No. _He shook it off and pressed his lips to her hair, hard. The dark boundaries of his thoughts pressed closer, and he knew he had to move. He shifted so that Bones was gently shaken.

"Hey, Bones? Hey, Bones..." _Bones, Baby. _ He'd called her that once but didn't know if he could, should. But those were the words that were lodged in his chest, creeping up his throat, demanding release. "Baby." He whispered. Hell, she was really out. He pulled away and stroked her face softly with the tips of his fingers until she opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. She rose automatically and let him lead her to the bedroom.

She stopped him before they reached the bed, turning into him, hugging. His arms came around her a little bit harder than he intended, the force of his care for her getting away from him. She didn't seem to mind though and pressed even closer. "I can't believe I get to sleep with you." She said this into his chest and something in the tone of her voice alerted him that it wasn't by accident that she wasn't looking at him when she spoke.

"Hey, Bones-" He pulled back just a little and forced her to catch his eyes. "What's up?"

"What do you mean, Booth?"

"I mean, why so shy all of a sudden?" Her chin came up a little higher.

"I'm not shy, Booth. I-" Her natural forthrightness, especially with him, warred with embarrassment. "...hadn't really let myself think about what came _after_ we had intercourse." His grunted disapproval at her word choice made her smile. "Tonight, just being together on the couch, watching a movie, now going to bed together...I haven't had anyone in my home like this in a long time."

She paused and looked up at him. Booth, scrambling for something to say other than "please let me stay forever," opted for silence.

Her long fingers and cool palm reached up to stroke the side of his face, came to rest on his cheek. "How are you going to shave tomorrow? I don't really have any supplies. I know it doesn't really matter but I just keep thinking of things like that. Like the bed." He looked over at the bed, confused. "Which side do you like to sleep on? When we were in the trailer, you slept on the right but I think that was because it was more exposed to someone entering from the outside-"

He couldn't hold back any longer and kissed her. Her lips were so so soft. Who knew that Bones would be soft? They softened further as her natural inclination to keep talking and analyzing the situation gave way to her desire to kiss him. He tilted his head slightly and let his mouth move gently against hers. When she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, he went with her. Long, sweet minutes later, she ended the kiss and lay her cheek against his chest.

"Well, what did you decide?"

"What did I decide about what, Bones?"

"Which side of the bed do you want?"

"How about you take the bathroom first. Then, when I come out, I'll sleep whereever you aren't." She smiled at that and rose up on tiptoes-her feet were bare too-to kiss him firmly on the mouth. He felt dazed by how easy it felt to be with her, how good, and he stood and watched her walk away and close the bathroom door behind her.

When his turn was done, he found her curled up in the middle of the bed, pretending to be asleep, waiting for his reaction. Feeling playful himself, he knelt on the bed next to her and picked her up. She gasped and grabbed onto his neck. "Booth! What are you doing?!"

"Moving you so that I have room. You can't have the whole bed, Bones!" He teased.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she rested in his arms, relaxing as she realized that he held her without strain. "Well?"

"I'm thinking." He backed up and rose, bringing her with him, enjoying the feel of his muscles working to keep her high up off the ground, pressed against his chest. He paced around the bed as if trying to decide. She laughed and looked long-suffering. Finally decided, he went back to where he started and put her back in the middle.

"Booth, wha-" He cut her off by laying down on top of her.

"Bones, I have decided I like you here, in the middle. There's enough room for us both, right?" He let his voice get softer and a little more serious. "I'm not crushing you, am I?"

Suddenly serious and intent herself, she reached for the back of his neck and pulled him down to her. "No." And her mouth was open under his. Heat curled through him and he moaned as her hands slipped under his shirt to touch his bare skin.

He felt all the worry and anger dissolve as the reality of being with Bones took hold of him. Her eyes and skin, her scent, the way she laughed when he kissed her belly and under her breast-low and breathy and sexy but also helpless and almost rueful. The press of her vertebrae against his lips when he turned her over to kiss down her back. The birthmark high up on her left buttock. The way...the way she _oh my god the way she _moaned because he moaned, as if his arousal fed hers.

He felt his guard come down, all at once. When he looked at her, she softened; he could _see it_, watch it happen. She pressed her face at the join of his shoulder and torso, almost under his arm, and he felt her body thrill to his own scent. She touched his stomach, ran her hands up the back of his thighs, pressed teasingly between his legs, making him grunt and nip at her throat. When he closed his eyes, she reached up and stroked his eyelids until he looked at her the way she wanted. Her eyes. Beautiful, expressive, far more revealing than she knew. Her eyes had been one of the first things he noticed about her, were _still_ one of the first things he checked. He wondered now, as he often did, what she saw in him, what provoked such intense scrutiny. He felt the warmth of recognition, of like to like, spread deep inside of him. He loved the way she always looked at him, saw him. Oh _fuck_.

_Oh fuck fuck fuck. _He stiffened and looked down at her in shock from where he was poised, their hips rolling together, just one move away from joining. Her eyebrows came together in confusion and he quick got his shit together, leaning down to kiss the worry away and pressing into her. Her eyes fluttered closed and her body bowed upwards, almost vibrating, and then her eyes snapped open to hold his. _He didn't know he only just realized that _the way she was looking at him was the way she _always_ looked at him. It was the _same_. This-_what he was feeling, what he was seeing_-was new but not new and everything had changed here today and yesterday but maybe _maybe maybe_ nothing had changed except his awareness of it.

Now, he did let the anger born of fear, of the dreadful burden of hope, rise up and he let her comfort him. Bones. Who didn't _do_ comfort. Bones let him bury himself in her, wrapped her legs and arms around him as if trying to touch every part of him. As if she knew what he needed. As if she knew him. As if she wanted him the way he was.

B&B

He woke on the right side of the bed, but the left was empty. When he reached his hand out to touch the sheets, they were cool. He listened and could hear that Bones was in the kitchen, could smell the coffee, and wasn't surprised when, as he sat up, she came in with a mug in her hand.

The sheet puddled around his waist and he raked a hand through his hair before taking the cup. "Good morning, Sunshine," he croaked. He gave her a sideways look and a crooked smile from below his brows before blowing on his coffee.

"Good morning, Booth." She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned a little against his knee and leg where it was crooked up. "I have some work I need to do today, and I am planning to go into the lab."

He took a healthy sip of coffee and answered her unspoken question. "I think I'm going to" he checked the clock. 8:14 am. "-go to 10 o'clock mass, and then I'm taking Parker and a couple of his friends bowling and for a pizza lunch. After that I'll bring the kids home and then Parker and I have started going to the library on Sunday afternoons to do his homework."

"I hope _you_ don't do his homework, Booth." He couldn't tell if she was really lecturing him on letting Parker do his own homework, but he answered anyway.

"Of course not, Bones. Some of it is beyond me." He joked, but she gave him a _look_. "Anyway, I usually read the newspaper, or we talk about what he's doing-he doesn't usually have much but if he doesn't we'll look at books or whatever, and then I bring him home by 4 or so."

She reached out and placed a hand on his shin, over the sheet. "Would you like to meet for dinner?"

He shifted the coffee to his left hand and took her hand in his, squeezing. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be great, Bones."

They sat, looking at each other, not completely certain what to say next and he didn't know about Bones, but it was pretty damn weird to not know what to say to her. Not really their thing, Not Talking. He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her briefly on the lips.

"You leaving now?"

"Yes. I'm ready. If that's okay. You can take a shower and eat anything you like. You have a key. Do you have your key with you?" She was referring to the key she had given him for emergencies.

"Yes, Bones. I have my key. So I'll call you later after I've dropped Parker off?"

"Okay, Booth. I'll talk with you later." She stood and, on sudden impulse, bent over to press her own kiss to his mouth. "Bye." She said against his lips.

"Bye." He said against hers, and felt her lips turn up. And then she turned and walked away. A minute later, he heard the door shut.

B&B

He had a good day. He spent the time in church trying to be open to whatever God had in store for him. He was beginning to suspect that the next test wasn't going to be as straightforward as fighting or sacrificing his safety and life for others. As he departed, saying goodbye to the lector and Father Conley at the door, he felt good, fortified.

The time with Parker was also fortifying in its own way. Raising a child like this, without Parker living with him most of the time, meant that he wasn't really sure what other parents felt like, but although Parker growing up was a little sad (he missed the days when Parker spent an hour curled up on his lap sleeping after a day at the park) and a little scary (so many new things to be worried about, to warn Parker about), this was also a wonderful age where Booth felt that he got as much from their time together as Parker did. He handed him off to Rebecca-again thinking of earlier days when, instead of grabbing a quick hug from Parker before Parker ran out back to play, Booth would carry the little body, heavy with sleep, curls matted from sweat and popsicles no matter how Booth had washed him up at the apartment, to the door to Rebecca. He hated handing him over, always, strangely felt that he deserved her irritation at Parker's state for being willing to hand Parker over. What kind of father was he that he couldn't be with his child? Nevermind that it wasn't something within his control. It still ate him up sometimes.

But today was a good day. Parker had some science homework and they were learning some spanish in class, so Booth watched him work out the brain teasers and helped him memorize vocabulary, continuing to ask Parker how he was and where the bathroom was in Spanish all the way to Rebecca's.

He called Bones on the way back from Rebecca's and she said just to come to her apartment, that she had dinner. Booth had packed a bag, just in case, but wasn't sure whether he would need it or even how to raise the subject but Brennan's usual directness took care of that. "Although, if you don't have clothes for tomorrow, Booth, you should stop at your apartment and pack some things." Booth sheepishly admitted that he had packed already, but again, typical Brennan didn't even notice the sheep. "That was very proactive of you, Booth. I'll see you soon, then." He smiled.

He tried the door to her apartment and was pleased to find it locked. He opened it with his key, calling out as he came in. "Bones? Hey Bones!"

"I'm in the kitchen, Booth!" He followed the sound of her voice and the smell of food to the kitchen. His stomach growled.

"It smells great, Bones. You didn't have to cook." She looked up from where she was moving the hot rice bowl from the rice cooker to a trivet on the counter. He recognized the meal as one of the few vegetarian dishes that he actually enjoyed. Bones didn't really cook much, about as much as he did, but they both liked this. Brown rice, good cheddar cheese, stir fry vegetables, almonds.

"It's not hard, Booth, and I didn't really feel like eating take out again..."

If his day had been full of the simple pleasures-being a Dad, a man of faith-his evening, for once, felt the same. He and Bones had a really great dinner sitting catty corner at the table. He made her laugh with stories of the kids and she told him about bones. Well, really that was unfair, because when she worked on identifying remains, she really worked hard to uncover as much as she could about the person. She was a novelist and she could tell a story, even when you expected a lecture. They did dishes together and put the food away, then took their drinks to the couch.

Booth detoured to the stereo to put on some music since he didn't feel up to watching the laptop again. When he got to the couch, Brennan's wine was there in the middle of the coffee table, so Booth sat on one end, head back against the soft fabric, scotch in his hand and burning smoothly down his throat. He felt the pulse of anticipation deep in his groin. In the dim lit room, he could see the city lights through her big picture window and her fancy view of the city but all it said to him was that it was no longer evening really. It was night. Night and ever closer to the time when he could strip the clothes off her and feel her smooth skin and warm curves against his body under the sheets.

He heard her come from the direction of the bedroom and felt her take a seat at the other end of the couch. Just a little bit disappointed that she had placed herself so far away. He had kind of hoped that she would curl up against him like she did last night.

"Booth?"

"Hmmm?" He turned his head toward her, but didn't lift up.

"Will you do something for me?" She said seriously.

Fear bloomed in his stomach. "What, Bones? Are you all right?"

She looked confused. "Yes, I'm fine. Do you really think I wouldn't have told you by now if I wasn't?"

"No, no, of course not. Sorry. Yeah. What can I do?"

"Would you stretch out on the couch, maybe rest your feet on me?"

"You want me to do that?" He wasn't sure why he hesitated.

"Yes. I would like it if you would do that." Her eyes looked gray and luminous in the dim light and she was a little tired, he could tell from the slow blinks.

So he leaned up and took his shoes off and stretched out, putting a bolster behind his head, making a joke about living the life. She took a long sip of her wine and placed it at her side on a high table behind the couch and shifted so she was facing him and his feet were in her lap, her legs folded together. She placed her hands on his feet, just holding them. He tensed, nervous, but she just held them and asked him a question about the music he had put on. As they talked, he felt the heat from her hands seeping through the thin cotton of his socks, and relaxed. He shifted on the couch so that his head was supported better and he could watch her without having to lift his head.

She was telling him about a concert she had attended, and as she talked, she took his socks off.

"What are you doing?" Her hands went back to their places on his feet, warmth stealing into them from her hands. And, then she started rubbing his feet, massaging them.

"Rubbing your feet, Booth." Her action was just firm enough not to tickle, but not strong or invasive or really very pressuring at all. His feet were so sensitive to pressure sometimes he wanted to cry during the D.C. weeks of unbearably high humidity. But she seemed to know this, and just did her squinty thing. Tiny motions, little circles, bone by bone.

"Did you know that there are 26 bones in each foot of the human body?" She said this softly, not looking at him, concentrating on his feet. Honestly, if he wasn't so...nervous _he wasn't really afraid_, he would be so taken by her right now. She peered closely at his foot while she worked, all but holding it up to the light to check for inconsistencies.

"Bones." He didn't know what he wanted to say. What she was doing, it felt like...hunger sated, like...

"33 joints."

"Bones. What are you doing?" She gently rubbed tiny circles on his toes, each one in turn and he forced back a moan. It felt like sex, almost.

"107 ligaments." And she was finished, he thought in relief, in dismay. "And 19 muscles and tendons."

And then fuck if she didn't start over. She put her hands back where they started, curled around the soles of both feet, the heat of her hands penetrating the muscles and the ligaments or whatever, and when she started rubbing again, she increased the pressure. Booth thought in dazed disbelief that he might come if she kept this up.

"Bones."

"Of course 52 bones in both feet amounts to 25% of all the bones in your body."

"_Bones._" She looked up at him but didn't stop what she was doing. He didn't know what to say, what he wanted. It was too much.

"Stop."

"Why?" She asked and paused but when he didn't remove his feet, didn't take his eyes off her, she resumed.

He didn't know what to say, just felt the pleasure and the anxiety building.

"Stop."

She paused but again, asked, "Why?" When he didn't respond, she resumed her deepening massage.

Now pushing her thumbs more firmly into the swollen _always swollen_ spaces between the bones and-

"Stop." More firmly. Her hands stilled immediately. She didn't lift her eyes to him this time, but kept her eyes fixed on his feet.

"Why?" Quiet but intense.

"Because it hurts." Her eyes leapt to his.

"You want me to stop because it hurts."

"Yes...No."

"Does it hurt?"

He had to tell her the truth and his voice was harsh. "_No._"

"Do you want me to stop?"

An almost whisper was the best he could do. "_No._"

Her hands. His whole world was in her hands, was her hands. "I don't want to talk about my feet."

"I don't need you to talk about your feet, Booth. I just need to touch you. I...need to feel your bones. If I touch your bones, I'll know. I'll know you."

He confessed. "I don't know if I can do this." She wasn't good with metaphor and he wasn't sure she would understand what he was saying but he also didn't know if he could say it more openly than that, if he even knew exactly what he was trying to say.

The silence lengthened and her hands moved gently but definitively on him. Finally, instead of responding to his words directly, she offered, hesitantly, in a low voice. "Ask me why I took your shirts."

He was beyond stopping her hands but he breathed out harshly, looking at the ceiling for patience. "Bones, I know why you took my shirts and it's sweet-"

She interrupted, her voice suddenly harder, almost clinical. Her science voice. The one that defined reality. "Booth, ask me why I took your shirts."

"Alright, Bones. Why did you take my shirts?" He dropped his eyes to meet hers again.

"Because I didn't want you to leave. I wanted you to stay." And the pain and insecurity in her voice prompted him to move where nothing else could have. He swung his legs down and shifted over on the couch, savagely repressing a wince when his newly tender feet took his weight. Her eyes glanced down, understanding, but still her body sank gratefully against his.

He realized then that it was enough. His feet, her admission, his anger, the way she understood him. He breathed out, relaxing, and Bones pressed her face into his neck, seeking his comfort for once. He gratefully pulled her closer and rubbed circles on her back until she stirred and raised her face to his. Enough. It was enough. More than enough.

the end (of the beginning, of course)


End file.
